Broken
by Psyche613
Summary: In the aftermath of the events in Arkham City, a crime spree in Gotham hits too close to home. Batman is pushed closer and closer to the edge both physically and mentally. BMWW.
1. Nerve Damage

**PREFACE**

This story is combines the JLU-Animated Universe with the Batman: Arkham City videogame. Generally speaking, the Arkham City events will have taken place soon after Destroyer. I'm counting it as JL/comic rather than Arkham/game as it does occur within the JLU Universe with Arkham City as one event taking place just post-JLU.

**MAJOR SPOILERS** for the game will be included throughout the story. If you haven't played it, plan to, and don't want to be spoiled, I suggest you stop reading right now and pull out your consol. If you have played, don't plan to play, or don't mind being spoiled if you are going to play – by all means, enjoy. For those of you who know the game, if I make any mistakes, please let me know. I didn't play myself, but watched most of it. However, it is possible that I've missed moments here and there and got something wrong. If you want more background about the game, I suggest the Batman: Arkham City wiki, which gives a pretty good description of the highlights. This story takes place after the Harley's Revenge download/add-on. That download sets up this story so if you haven't played or seen it, you can check out YouTube. It's not long. I hope to give enough background that you won't have to do any homework unless you want to.

The intent of this story is to be darker, grittier, and overall more "real" than my first two. Although the rating is M, content may be included down the road that is MA or NC-17 and if it is, it will be posted only on sites where those ratings are allowed. I'll let you know in an A/N if that happens and if you need the other site, please PM me.

**PROLOGUE**

-From _Harley Quinn's Revenge_ Downloadable Content, _Batman: Arkham City_.

Just as the building exploded, Batman grabbed Harley Quinn and leapt out of a window, saving both of their lives. They hit the ground hard, not far from where Commissioner Jim Gordon had been thrown by the blast.

"You should have left me to die," said Harley as she struggled onto her feet. "Then I could have been back together with Mr. J."

Ignoring her, Batman turned to Jim Gordon, "Where's Robin?"

"I thought he was with you," responded the Commissioner. They both looked back toward the building.

Behind the two men, Harley chuckled sadistically. "See, it hurts, don't it?" she taunted.

Batman turned on her with an angry and hateful glare. "What have you done?" he snarled.

"Now you know how it feels."

Batman turned his back on the crazed woman and again looked toward the burning building with a growing sense of panic. His distraction offered Harley the opportunity to make her move.

As she lifted her arm and lunged with the intent on stabbing him in the back, a shuriken came from out of the darkness and hit the woman, knocking the knife from her hand and knocking her out cold. Robin plucked the shuriken smoothly from the air as it circiled back and turned to face his mentor.

"So, did you miss me?" he said with a smirk.

"Where are the cops?"

"They're safe."

"I'm done here." Masking both his fear and relief, Batman shot his grapple into the sky and disappeared into the darkness.

"Hey kid, is he alright?" asked Gordon.

"Yeah, sure…course he is."

But he wasn't. And he hadn't been since that night in Arkham City, two weeks before.

**Chapter One…**

**A/N: **As usual, many thanks to DaisyJane for suggestions and beta services.

Disclaimer: All recognizable characters and events are the property of DC Comics, Warner Brothers, Rocksteady and affiliated companies. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended. No profit is being made.

Chapter titles and some of the content inspired by music by Lifehouse. I gave you the youtube codes if you are into songfics and want to check it out.

Oh, and Geoff Johns can bite me.

_youtube - TDHdvZDskoe_

**NERVE DAMAGE**

He found himself sitting in a rundown bar in Gotham, just outside the wall that closed off the now-abandoned slums that had recently functioned as the open-air prison, Arkham City. What the city leaders were going to do with that wasteland in the middle of Gotham, he didn't know. Burning the whole thing to the ground was a good start as far as he was concerned. He was glad to be out of the place.

The last couple of days had been rough. The GCPD was still looking for him. Now that most of the bosses were back in jail, they were hunting down henchman like him. Needless to say, he had no intention of getting sent back to Blackgate Prison. He looked down at the almost empty glass of cheap bourbon that sat in front of him. Tomorrow he would try to figure out what he was going to do.

Tonight he was going to relax. That meant laying low. It meant staying out of trouble. It also meant being anywhere that Batman wasn't. He was sitting in one of the more crime-ridden areas of the city just outside the former open-air prison. But this bar wasn't yet known for attracting the criminal element and _that_ meant he wasn't moving his ass from this barstool until he had to.

He was now the only customer in this dump. There were two young girls in the corner, but they were with the man working behind the bar. The bartender was tall and lanky, with shaggy blonde hair that hung over his eyes. He had that look about him that screamed hardcore crack junkie. The only other person working in the bar was the sweaty, stocky, balding man cooking in the kitchen. Despite the cold outside, he wore a white sleeveless t-shirt that bore the evidence of the establishments most popular fare.

He'd been watching the girls for hours. The cook was also closely watching the girls. At every opportunity the cook came out of the kitchen and brought them drinks and food – French fries, cheeseburgers, whatever greasy mess he had back there. Each time he did, the girls lowered their eyes and thanked the cook with a whisper.

He didn't like how the cook looked at them. Like the girls were the meal. The bartender hadn't noticed. Or maybe he just didn't care.

For most of the night, the girls remained at a table in the corner. Occasionally they left the room together and made their way to the bathroom, holding hands. Each time they went, the bartender yelled at them to hurry up and get their "asses back to the table". He wasn't sure why they were sitting in this dive at all. At the moment, he was glad they were though. He liked watching them. They were beautiful.

He saw the bruises. The cuts. The burns. They were hard to miss; their thin t-shirts left exposed arms dotted with them. One girl had the telltale purple shadow of a healing black eye. When the other pushed up the sleeve of her red t-shirt and scratched her arm, she revealed several small circles near her shoulder. They were roughly the size of a cigarette. The girl caught him watching her and pulled down her sleeve quickly, covering the marks. Then she abruptly lowered her head and turned away, her blonde hair swinging around to cover her face.

Throughout the evening, the two men conversed with each other while they worked. It was inane chatter. Mostly.

"Hey Joe?" asked the cook.

"Yeah?" replied Joe as he pulled a beer from the tap.

"Ever had Primo Turbo? Want to smoke at my place when we're done?"

Joe shook his head. "Nah. Sorry Colin. The girls. I got them all night tonight."

He could _hear_ the gleam in Colin's eye. "You could bring 'em with you. I don't mind."

He felt the slow burn of anger build. As far as he was concerned, there was no chance Joe would be taking those girls with him to Colin's tonight.

Eventually, the two men prepared to close the bar. The girls were now sitting on the floor, leaning against the wall. Their eyes were closed. He was the last of the bar's patrons. He found himself alone with the two men.

"Hey buddy," the bartender said to him, "We're shutting down. Time to close out your tab."

He glanced toward the kitchen and watched the cook go out a side door with several bags of trash. Without saying a word, he reached across the counter and grabbed a handful of the man's hair in his left hand and pulled him closer. Joe's eyes widened in surprise as his assailant reached down and took a Microtech Halo knife from a nylon sheath fastened to his calf. In one fluid motion he gripped the black anodized aluminum handle, hit the trigger button to release the blade, and swung it around and stuck it deep into the left side of Joe's neck, severing his carotid artery. Blood sprayed everywhere, coating the bar and walls in red until Joe's heart stopped beating.

Colin walked back into the kitchen from the alley where he had deposited the night's trash. Before there was a chance to see the blood-soaked bar, the killer grabbed the cook from behind, the switchblade now slicing across his neck from left to right. He left Colin dying on the kitchen floor.

He walked back to the bar from kitchen and slowly turned, looking toward the corner of the room. Two sets blue eyes watched him, wide with terror.

He walked toward them. _Mine_, he thought_. Ours._

* * *

Batman thundered across the city in the Batmobile. Oracle had intercepted a 911 call reporting two bodies at a local bar. So, he was headed toward a small, hole in the wall dive, just on the outskirts of what had recently become one of the seedier areas of Gotham City. Right outside the walls of Arkham City.

It seemed much longer than two weeks since he'd shut down the open-air prison. Even though he'd accomplished his mission by making it no longer operational, as far as he was concerned, the pile of bodies left behind that night were evidence of his ultimate failure. Tyger mercenaries hired by Hugo Strange had killed dozens and possibly hundreds of inmates before he'd been able to get to him and stop Protocol 10. Protocol 10 was the brainchild of Hugo Strange and Ra's al Ghul, developed to wipe out the entire criminal element of Gotham City - by the mass execution of all of Arkham City's residents. Both men had died as a result of their actions. He felt little to no remorse or regret as a result of their deaths. He'd tried to save them both. Besides, Ra's al Ghul never stayed dead for long.

However, he hadn't yet been able to shake the overwhelming sense of failure and regret for the deaths of Talia and Joker that night. Talia had saved his life twice in Arkham City, then lost her own. He'd failed to save her from Joker's gun. The bodies of her and Ra's weren't recovered from Arkham City by the GCPD. Most likely the League of Assassins took them away en route to another Lazarus Pit. Logically, he knew that Talia, like her father, would likely be back. Despite this fact, her death had hit him hard. Dead or revived, he needed to find her.

He loved her – or at least he had at one time with a crazy passion that made him overlook that the relationship was doomed from the start – and watching Talia die had brought to the surface those emotions he'd worked hard to repress for thirty years. Someone else he loved had died in his arms. The constant fear that he always carried with him – the failure to protect someone he cared for – was realized. What he had never expected was to also share that responsibility and the blame for Talia's death. For others, the experience could have inspired an effort to show the people he loved more appreciation. For him, it had only caused him to push his loved ones away in order to protect them, and protect himself, from another of his failures.

Joker's death had been the result of the Titan toxin that poisoned his system. Joker had infected him with the poison too, knowing that there was a good chance he'd be saved when the Batman found a cure for himself. The psychopath had been correct and could have recovered, but in his haste to take the antidote from him, had inadvertently destroyed what remained. Batman knew he should feel no remorse over Joker's death. Nonetheless, that failure caused some measure of guilt, as did the knowledge of how Joker's death had affected Harley. Her grief had overwhelmed her. In her pain, a darker, stronger, thirst for blood had emerged – his blood.

Several days ago Harley had attempted to get her revenge. She had escaped from the psychiatric ward at Gotham General and quickly reunited Joker's gang inside the walls of Arkham City. They had ambushed a SWAT team sweeping the city for any remaining inmates and taken two of them hostage. He went in, but was careless. He was captured by Harley's thugs. After two days, Robin came in after him and together they rescued the officers and took Harley into custody.

Harley Quinn was now at the temporary holding facility at Blackgate Penitentiary – secure this time with extra guards and security measures. The GCPD did not intend to let her escape again. She would go back to Arkham Asylum as soon as it reopened. Currently, it was undergoing renovations and state of the art security upgrades, courtesy of Wayne Tech. He was overseeing the project himself and was secretly tying the whole system together to be accessed from the supercomputer in the Batcave. It should have been done a long time ago.

As much as he'd involved Bruce Wayne in the redevelopment of Arkham Asylum, he'd pulled Batman back from his nightly watch over Gotham City. He was distracted. His head wasn't in the game right now and he knew that going out on the streets could risk more lives than his absence would. His capture by Harley was proof enough of that. His withdrawal, however, had caused the growing concern of those around him, especially Alfred. At least Alfred had been the most vocal about it. Dick, Tim, and Barbara…so far they had all held back from confronting him.

He had taken a temporary leave of absence from the Justice League. The Founders shouldn't trust him right now. He was contemplating making the leave of absence permanent. Diana would probably react the most strongly, although with how things were right now he couldn't be sure. She was pissed off that he'd been so close to death in Arkham City and hadn't asked her or anyone else for help.

It really wasn't like Diana, but over the last two weeks he'd sensed her withdrawal from him on the few occasions he was on the Watchtower. There was the possibility that King Faraday was the reason for keeping her distance, but that was unlikely. That was still very new. From what he'd heard, she'd been resisting King's advances for months until recently when she'd finally given in. She had no reason not to – Bruce had made sure of that. But he was sure it wasn't the reason for her withdrawal. He knew the signs of emotional self-preservation when he saw it. It was a way of life for him - like looking in a mirror. His guilt over hurting her over and over again was only tempered by the fact that her anger and withdrawal made it easier for him to stay away. He could never tell her, but that night in Arkham had made something abundantly clear – if Talia's had death had crippled him - Diana's would kill him. He couldn't risk their getting any closer.

Batman had withdrawn from his mission and Bruce had withdrawn from everyone.

His behavior had Gordon concerned as well. His carelessness when he went back into Arkham City after Harley had gotten him captured and nearly killed. Tim had been forced to rescue him. When Harley blew up the Steel Mill, for a moment he had believed Tim was still inside. The moments that he'd believed Tim dead had almost broken him.

Since that night, he'd pulled back on his patrols. Fortunately, most of the occupants of Arkham City had already been rounded up, cleared out, and locked up in Blackgate. Aside from Harley's stunt, most of the criminal activity had been petty and nonviolent. Until tonight. Tonight Gotham called. It was time to put his personal crap aside.

The tip from Oracle allowed him to reach the murder scene well ahead of the GCPD. Within a few minutes of his arrival, he had managed to scan the entire crime scene for evidence and efficiently gathered samples of what he would likely need to conduct his own investigation.

He'd seen far more gruesome crime scenes, of course. What was remarkable about this one though, was the blood. The sheer volume of it. In the small confines of the bar, he was practically swimming in it.

"Do I want to know how you got here before me? Again?" Commissioner Jim Gordon walked into the front door of the bar, followed closely by two detectives and several uniformed patrolman. He motioned for his entourage to go back and wait outside.

Silence was the only response the Commissioner received to his question. Correctly assuming that the silence meant he wasn't going to find out how Batman was always one step ahead of him, Gordon continued, "The anonymous call came in from a disposable cell phone, untraceable."

"The caller didn't do this," Batman said, finally breaking his silence. "Somebody came in after the murders and cleaned out the cash register. That was probably the caller. We'll find him anyway, he left fingerprints behind the bar."

"He could still be our killer." Gordon looked over the bloody scene as he spoke, pulling a pair of standard plastic blue covers out of his pocket to cover his shoes. Batman wore clear covers over his black boots to protect from contaminating the physical evidence. No blue booties for the Batman. It might diminish his scariness.

Batman shook his head. "Two sets of bloody footprints. One leading from the front door to the register and out again. Pretty straight forward. That's your caller." He paused and walked behind the bar where one of the victims lay on the floor. "The footprints and the blood spatter tell the tale. The bartender was killed first, across the bar. The killer then walked around the bar – ignoring the cash register – and surprised the cook from behind, slashing his throat." He pointed out the trail of footprints as he spoke, detailing the killer's actions step by step.

"Then the killer came back out into the bar and stopped facing the wall here. Then he turned and left through the kitchen, out the back door." Batman paused and stood staring at the wall.

After what seemed like an eternity waiting for Batman's silent contemplation, Gordon had to ask, "What is it?"

"The killer came back out of the kitchen and stood here facing the wall before turning around and walking back out through the kitchen door into the alley. But why?" He lifted one gauntleted arm and pointed towards the wall. "There's a void here in the blood spatter. No more than three feet off of the floor. Something was here and whatever it was, it was important enough that he took it with him."

Batman took another step back from the wall and re-scanned the area of the void with his cowl. Back in the cave he could use the scan to try and identify what had created the void. The two walked toward the front door of the bar.

"You done? Can I turn our boys loose now?" Gordon asked.

"I have everything I need-," Batman replied before he suddenly began to cough.

"You ok?" Gordon asked when Batman had caught his breath. The smoke in the air of the bar was thick and as a smoker, Jim Gordon was used to it. He assumed that someone in the kind of shape Batman was in probably wouldn't be. "You probably aren't used to this smoke," he continued, "Shape you're in, you probably sleep in an oxygen chamber."

The commissioner was not surprised when received no response to his question. "Ok. Anyway, we'll start processing the crime scene and run the prints. Although I'll bet you'll know who the players are long before I do, as usual," commented Gordon.

Batman ignored the comment, but respectfully nodded and added, "I'll let you know what I find."

Before Jim Gordon could reply, the door in front of them burst open and a woman, flanked with two patrolmen, practically fell through the door. The woman dressed in black thigh high boots, leather shorts, and a purple tank top. Her clothes and the track marks on her arm made it a safe assumption that she was a prostitute.

The cops attempted to restrain her as she tried to enter the bar. She screamed at them, "Get off me you assholes! I need to find Joe!" The second she caught sight of Batman she froze, silent for just a moment before turning to Gordon. "What's happening in here? Where is Joe?"

"Why would you think he's in here ma'am?" asked Gordon.

"He's the bartender and he was working tonight…" she broke off as she finally took in the scene behind the Commissioner and Gotham's masked vigilante. She jumped and tried to push past the two men. Batman's sheer bulk was enough to prevent her from entering the bloody crime scene.

The woman began to scream again. "Where are they? Where is Joe? Where are the girls?"

"What girls? Prostitutes? Is Joe your pimp? There are two bodies back there. One of them is probably his," Batman questioned her coldly. "Do you turn tricks out of this place?"

The hysterical woman suddenly screamed, then turned on Batman and attacked him, clawing and scratching at his armor. It surprised him but he didn't make a move except to grab her wrists and hold her away from him as he growled, "Stop."

"Fuck you, you bastard! I'm talking about our twins - they're three! They were here with their father!"

Batman looked back at the void in the blood spatter with a sick feeling growing in his belly. He had no doubt that the two girls had been what caused it. Two small girls huddled together in fear, covered in their father's blood. "They watched their father's murder," Batman said. "And the killer has them."

**E/N:** This is where I shamelessly beg for reviews. With the 'soulmate' theme in my last story, this time I'm writing with a little more of a male audience in mind but hopefully still making it appeal to the 'girls'. I am one after all.

Oh yeah - Geoff Johns can still bite me.

9/9/12 update - So nobody else gets worked up, I wanted to assure everyone who is tired of King Faraday - he is simply a means to an end. The role he plays is so small it wasn't worth the time to develop a brand new character. There will be more than enough going on if you choose to stick with me and I hope that you do. Thanks for reading.


	2. Wrecking Ball

**Chapter Two…**

**A/N: **Thank you to Daisy Jane for the beta. To my reviewers – thank you for keeping me moving. **Spoilers for JLU: Doomsday Sanction. **

**FYI - **_Titan_ is a chemical compound of Venom and Poison Ivy's plants, created by Arkham Asylum physician, Dr. Penelope Young. It was used by the Joker in the game 'Arkham Asylum' and was the cause of the illness that caused his death in 'Arkham City'.

Disclaimer: All recognizable characters, events, and music are the property of their respective owners. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended. No profit is being made.

_you tube - GqgeNqTRvK8_

**WRECKING BALL**

It was 3:00 AM. Tim Drake sat at the desk in his room staring at a textbook. There wasn't any point in going to bed. He wasn't used to even trying to sleep until 5:00 A.M. Usually at this time of night he was out on patrol, running forensics in the lab, or updating logs. He was not at home in his room, studying for a final exam. Or in tonight's case, staring blankly at the book for a class he really didn't even need to open it for.

Even for a rigorous double major in Biomedical and Mechanical Engineering, the non-traditional education Bruce had given him made picking up the textbooks almost unnecessary. At least most of the time. Tim had to work at playing the typical college freshman. There wasn't much new he could learn with a basic undergraduate degree, but he needed to play the role and maintain the façade of being a normal college student. Bruce had been thrilled when he had talked about going medical school. Although his mentor's enthusiasm had dampened somewhat when he also learned that part of Tim's goal was to study the genetics and physiology of meta-humans, which would allow him to better deal with both villains and heroes alike. It was all part of Tim's long-term plan for his continued participation in _the mission_.

Rubbing his eyes, Tim glanced again at the clock. Under any other circumstances, a chance to get a little extra sleep would be welcome. Tonight though, sleep was the last thing Tim wanted to do.

Bruce had gone out alone on patrol tonight and he was worried. A week ago he would have been happy that Bruce wanted to go out at all. He'd not really patrolled much since the bosses from Arkham City had been locked up and the place was shut down. Bruce had been spending a lot of his time in the cave, going over the schematics for the new and improved Arkham Asylum. At other times, he disappeared for hours at a time without a word to anyone. Day or night, it didn't matter. He told no one where he went but Tim knew that he was definitely not patrolling.

Yes, Batman on patrol tonight would have been a good thing, if not for what had just happened with Harley Quinn. Right now he just shouldn't be out alone.

Tim slammed his book shut and threw it across his expansive bedroom in Wayne Manor. He should be out there with him. But he wasn't. Bruce had seen to that last night.

Batman had left abruptly last night after an unconscious Harley Quinn was handed back over to Commissioner Gordon. Tim knew that for a few terrifying moments his adopted father had no idea if he'd made it out of building before it exploded. Thinking Tim could be dead - even for a moment - was just more powder added to the growing keg that was currently Batman. Right now they were all just waiting for someone to light a match.

Robin had returned to the cave not long after Batman. Bruce had been sitting at the computer as usual, entering information into his logs from the last two days spent in captivity. Tim changed out of his suit and left it where he always did – on a table in the changing area so that Alfred could return it to its case. When Tim finished in the shower, he came back to find the suit gone. Heading towards the center of the cave, he came across Bruce, setting the lock of one of the hermetically sealed cases that preserved the older versions of their suits.

Tim watched with a puzzled expression as Bruce turned around.

Bruce turned and met his gaze with a determined and grim expression. "You're done," he said.

Tim's brow furrowed in confusion at these words. "Done with what exactly?" he replied.

"With this. All of it. You aren't risking your life anymore. Be a normal college student. Be a scientist. Be a doctor. Don't be me."

Tim's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "I'm over eighteen Bruce, you can't stop me _now_."

Bruce's eyes narrowed at the challenge. "You're right. I can't stop you from going out. But I don't have to let you go with me or use any of my equipment." He then turned and left the cave, going up to the Manor. Tim stood staring after him in shocked silence.

Although Bruce had trained him well, Tim knew it would be foolish to go out on his own without armor and weapons. Until he could come up with his own equipment, he was, effectively, "done".

The soft chime of his personal cell phone interrupted Tim's thoughts. He picked it up. It was Bruce. The call came in from Bruce Wayne's personal cell.

"Hello?"

"Get downstairs."

After half a beat of silence, Tim hesitantly replied, "But last night you said…"

"I know what I said. You are not going out. This is research. A double homicide just outside of Arkham City. Go." Then the line went dead.

Tim jumped up and ran down the stairs to the library. He was at the clock about to let himself into the entrance to the cave when Alfred caught up with him.

"Master Tim, you're not – "

"It's OK, Alfred. He called. It's just research."

Alfred frowned. Bruce had been adamant that Tim no longer participate in his nightly excursions in Gotham City. In any capacity. It was troubling that the very next night he had stepped back from that mandate. Alfred followed Tim down to the Cray computer in the middle of the cave. Within seconds, the image of Oracle - Barbara Gordon -appeared on the computer screen. She began rapidly relaying the information that was needed to begin researching.

"Two young girls were abducted from Scully's Bar tonight. Rose and Lily James, identical twins, age three, blonde, blue eyes," said Barbara. "The Amber alert is up. I'm combing every bit of surveillance video I can find to try and catch a glimpse of them. Bruce wants you to find out everything you can about their parents. Joseph James, age 32 and Rachel James, age 24. Both have done time. Check past acquaintances, cellmates. See if you can find out who would want to take the girls-"

"Hold up, Barb. I thought this was a double homicide?"

"It is. It's also an abduction. That's the priority. Bruce thinks the killer took the girls. Their father was one of the victims. He was the bartender at Scully's. The other victim was the cook. Their throats were cut."

"Why does he think the killer took the girls?" asked Tim as he began to pull up what Barbara had sent him on the parents.

Barbara paused for a moment, and then replied, "They were at the bar with their father tonight."

Tim sat back in his chair and rested his head against the back. "Those two girls were taken from the bar after their father was killed? In the middle of the night?"

"Yes…"

"Miss Barbara, how does Master Bruce know that the girls were taken from the bar?" Tim glanced over at Alfred. His expression reflected a deep concern that was accompanied by a sense of foreboding.

After another longer pause, Barbara replied, "There was a void in the blood spatter." She hit a few buttons on her keyboard and crime scene photos appeared on another monitor in the cave. Her next words came slowly. "They apparently huddled against the wall while it happened in front of them. They had to have been covered in their father's blood as they watched him die."

The three of them let Barbara's words hang in the air for a few moments as they absorbed their meaning. They all knew that Bruce would take this one personally – or at least more personally than the other crimes against innocents in his city. Three year-olds had watched a parent brutally murdered in front of them. As Bruce had when he was eight. In this case, however, the nightmare of these girls continued as they appeared to have been taken by their father's killer.

"My heavens. Those poor children." Alfred walked away from the computer system and stood with his back to Tim, looking into the open area of expansive cavern.

After a long silent moment, Tim asked, "Was else anything else taken?"

"Money was taken from the register," Barbara replied. "But he doesn't think the killer took it. He thinks he just took the girls. The cook was holding and since the drugs were still on him, it doesn't look like he or the bartender were even searched. That and the crime scene itself indicates that the girls were probably the motive for the murders."

"Where is he now, Miss Barbara?" Alfred asked from somewhere behind Tim.

"Headed to Blackgate. He's convinced we're looking for somebody who was in Arkham City and hasn't been rounded up yet. I don't know why." It went without saying that the Blackgate infirmary would have a couple of extra visitors tonight.

"Let's pray those girls are found soon, for their sake and Master Bruce's. I fear his state of mind will deteriorate further if this isn't resolved quickly. Master Tim and Miss Barbara, I suggest you get to work. I need to place a call to the Watchtower."

Tim whipped around in his chair and stared in surprise at Alfred. "Really? Isn't she still seriously pissed off? Wally told Dick that she was scary mad. At us too for leaving him in there alone."

"I would imagine she is still quite angry with all of us for not calling her or the League for assistance that night. My only hope is that she will look beyond our shortcomings when he nearly died in Arkham City and come to our aid now. Despite Master Bruce's behavior to the contrary, having an Amazon angry with you is something one should wish to avoid. I, myself, do not intend to make the same mistake twice."

* * *

Wonder Woman was restless. It was the middle of the night and she'd been pulled out of her peaceful slumber to rescue a group of campers caught in the path of a volcanic eruption on Hawaii's Big Island. It had been quick work to pull them out and clear any other areas that could potentially be impacted by the eruption. After teleporting back to the Watchtower, she found herself too wired for sleep. The training room seemed to be the best option to burn off her excess energy.

She was not surprised that the mission brought up memories of another volcano and another mission. Another time when she found herself gripped by fear, wondering if Bruce was dead or alive. He'd intercepted a missile headed toward the island and saved Kal and herself, once again risking his life in the process. The electrically charged ash from that volcano had caused interference with communications and it was a long, terrifying hour after that missile exploded until they finally located him.

Diana reflected back on finding the escape pod, pulling the hatch, and the feeling of overwhelming relief when she found him inside, alive, but out cold. She had gently pulled off his cowl and woke him up. He had looked up at her and simply smiled, his blue eyes reflecting his disorientation. She smiled back and asked him if he couldn't have found an easier way to do this. "You were still on the island, Princess," he replied before passing out again.

His stunts over the last two weeks were entirely different though.

She could understand his actions at San Baquero. He risked his life to save his teammates. They all did that on a regular basis. This time it was his stubborn refusal to show weakness that had prevented him from asking for or accepting help. He had run around that wasteland called Arkham City and had nearly gotten himself killed repeatedly while succumbing to the poison in his bloodstream. He'd found the antidote but the effects had not completely left him.

Bruce had come to the Watchtower the next day. She'd happened upon him accidentally. Diana, having noticed on the transporter logs that J'onn was on the satellite, went to find him in the infirmary. Lately, J'onn rarely came to the satellite, preferring for the time being to serve the League only in high-threat situations as he developed a new "human" life with a new human love. The doors had been locked when she arrived and she quickly initiated the Founder's voice-activated override.

When the doors opened, she walked in and froze in surprise. Sitting on one of the exam tables was Bruce, without his shirt, cape, and cowl. She noted quickly that he was covered in bruises, cuts, and fresh stitches. Much worse and more numerous injuries than she had ever seen before or could have ever imagined. J'onn stood next to him. He had just wrapped a rubber band around Bruce's right arm and prepared to draw blood. The two superheroes looked up at the Amazon with apprehension as she entered.

Diana directed a pointed look at Bruce's arm, needle poised to enter his bloodstream. She allowed herself to slowly look over his battered chest and arms, then lifted her eyes to meet Bruce's.

"Hera, Bruce, what happened?" she whispered.

J'onn looked away from her and down to Bruce's arm, pushing the needle into his skin.

"Nothing," Bruce replied.

More forcefully this time, "What. Happened."

Bruce and Diana stared at each other, each with a determined expression.

"I'll be fine. It's nothing."

"Obviously," she said quietly, yet sardonically. "You need blood tests and look like you took on every criminal in Gotham last night." She noticed immediately when Bruce looked away from her as she spoke. "Everyone, Bruce?" she asked, her voice softening a little.

He sighed as he looked up at her. "Not everyone, but most of them. It's a long story."

"I've got time," Diana replied as she stepped forward and gingerly traced a bruise on his shoulder with her fingertips. She felt his short intake of breath when she touched him.

Both noticed but didn't acknowledge when J'onn quietly left the room, taking vials of blood with him.

Bruce sighed again and began to describe the highlights from his night in Arkham City, focusing on Protocol 10 and the plot developed by Hugo Strange and Ra's Al-Ghul. He stopped after describing the explosion at the Wonder Tower and the deaths of Ra's and Strange.

"Then what happened?" Diana asked.

"Nothing. I kept fighting and rounding up prisoners."

"That's not the whole story. Why the need for blood tests?"

Bruce shrugged. "Joker injected me with his blood, which contained a strain of Titan that kills in 24 hours. He also had it shipped to hospitals in Gotham by contaminating blood used for transfusions."

"It kills in 24 hours? Are you still infected? Is that why you are here?" Diana's voice cracked with growing alarm.

"No – no. Victor Fries made an antidote using an enzyme from Ra's Al-Ghul's blood."

"And Joker?"

"He died before I could give it to him."

Diana was silent for a moment. "Are the boys OK?" she said softly.

"They're fine. They weren't with me."

"They weren't – you were alone?"

"I was. Tim came inside briefly but I sent him back to stop the distribution of contaminated blood at the hospitals."

"The whole night you were on your own?" She withdrew the hand that was still resting on his shoulder and took a step back.

He shrugged and watched her hand almost wistfully as it fell to her side. Diana felt there was more to tell, but her growing fury at his silence and his stubbornness prevented her from questioning him further.

"So, again you go it alone and nearly die! _And they let you! _What is exactly so bad about asking for help!? Why couldn't you call me?" Her blue eyes blazed.

"It's Gotham, princess. We've been through this."

"And it continues to be an asinine excuse!"

"Ah-hmm."

They both turned their heads toward the door. This time, neither had noticed it opening. J'onn stood there with a grim expression. There was a problem.

"Tell me," Bruce said as he moved off the exam table to his feet.

"Your white blood cell count is critically low," J'onn explained. "More than likely a response to the Titan infection. Your body will just require time to recover. I would like to test your bone marrow – "

"Am I a danger to anyone else?" Bruce interrupted as he stood and retrieved his shirt, carefully pulling it over his stitches and bandages.

"Not any more than normal, unless you catch some contagion. For a while, your body will have difficulty fighting off infection. You will require rest and a healthy diet. There are some medications used by cancer patients that reduce the risk of infection, but the side effects for you might be more dangerous. I also suggest some high potency multi-vitamins."

"Thank you, J'onn," Bruce replied as he pulled on the cowl.

"Batman, it will take several weeks and possibly months for your counts to return to normal if your system is functioning properly. Blood tests will need to be repeated regularly. A spinal tap could tell us how well your bone marrow is producing white blood cells –"

All Bat now, Bruce walked toward the door. "That won't be necessary."

Before he reached the exit, Diana was in front of him, blocking his way. "You aren't going to rest at all, are you, Bruce? Won't you do anything that J'onn is asking you to do?"

Bruce just gazed at her without replying. Her eyes narrowed as she stared back at him. With each second of Bruce's silence, she grew angrier. After several moments, she turned on her heel and walked out the door.

Now, as she reached the door to the holographic training room, that memory of two weeks ago caused another surge of anger to flow through her.

She walked over to the consol and fired up a hard-light Virtual Training Simulation that included a number of Gotham's more potent meta-human villains. Within seconds she was facing Poison Ivy, Clayface, and Killer Croc. _I might as well take it out on them._

The simulated Poison Ivy looked at her with irritation. "How disappointing," she said to Diana. "I so love getting rough with the Dark Knight."

Diana quirked an eyebrow at her, briefly wondering if Bruce had programmed Ivy or if it had been someone else. Probably Nightwing. Possibly, it was reprogrammed by Shayera. To mess with him.

Vines suddenly swirled around her and Diana raised her sword with a roar. Before she had time to strike a blow at the foliage beginning to wrap itself around her legs, a call came over her comlink.

"Stop program." She said. "This is Wonder Woman."

Black Canary replied, "Diana, you have a phone call. From Gotham."

**E/N:** This one was mostly back story. Chapter 3 has more action (the BMWW kind) and is essentially done, so expect an update soon. Please review. Maybe if the number of reviews I get will be directly correlated with the BMWW offerings? More reviews means the more frequent, intense, and lemony the BMWW gets? Consider yourself challenged. :)


	3. Broken

**Chapter 3…**

**A/N:** So, I must say to all of my reviewers, you certainly rose to the challenge. Thank you. I was going to hold this chapter back a few more days until I got a little further into Chapter 4, but since your responses were so encouraging and I have such poor impulse control – here you go. BMWW as promised…

This chapter (and probably several other Batasskicking chapters) dedicated to Aries. :D

Thank you, as always, to the incredible DaisyJane for beta services rendered.

Disclaimer: All recognizable characters, events, and music are the property of their respective owners. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended. No profit is being made.

**BROKEN**

_youtube - axPlLqLmSUw_

It was nearly dawn when Batman returned to the cave. The GCPD had issued the Amber alert and were stopping all cars headed out of the city. Extra patrols were out. The GCPD airships were focusing surveillance in and around Arkham City. There was no sign of the missing twins anywhere.

His frustration was growing. He had spent hours at Blackgate interrogating prisoners and hadn't discovered anything that could help them find the two girls. None of the prisoners knew a thing. Every minute that went by lowered their chances of finding the girls alive.

It had been a mistake to try and talk to Harley Quinn. The psychiatrists at Blackgate had told him that she was nearly catatonic. At least most of the time. Although they had also told him that catatonia was _not_ the most abnormal behavior she had demonstrated since being locked back up the night before. The shrinks weren't exaggerating, what he had seen was definitely disturbing.

The guards had taken him to her cell. Since her escape from lockdown in Gotham General, they minimized her movements in any way possible. The contents of the cell were minimal and included only a molded plastic bed and night table, sheet, blanket, and pillow. A few paperback books lie on the floor by the bed. Harley Quinn was insane, yes, but not stupid. The prison was careful not to allow her access to anything that could be used as a weapon or means to escape.

Quickly he had realized that he wouldn't have a chance to ask her anything at all about the murders or abductions. She wasn't capable of answering any questions.

Harley Quinn was by no means sane. Years spent with Joker had made sure of that. He expected the homicidal ideation – a normal behavior for Harley. After the last few days, he even expected suicidal ideation. What Batman observed inside the cell, however, was completely unexpected.

Harley was sitting in the tiny room on her bed with her back to him, rocking back and forth. And humming.

He watched with facination through the polycarbonate bullet-resistant window as she slowly stood, still facing away from him. She had stopped rocking when she rose, instead beginning to sway back and forth. He began to make out words as Harley's humming became singing. His eyes widened in surprise as he listened.

"Hush little baby don't say a word, momma's gonna kill for you the whole damn world…"

As Harley turned toward him, he noticed immediately that she appeared to be holding in her arms something wrapped in a white sheet. His earlier surprise turned to shock as he surveyed the scene, comprehension quickly dawning. The white bundle was held in the crook of Harley's arm _lovingly, _as she swayed and sang a lullaby. Harley's expression was _serene._ Batman took a step back from the glass. _It wasn't possible that she had a baby in there._

Harley's singing and swaying ceased as soon as she caught sight of him through the partition. Her expression went from serene to hard and cold. Calmly, Harley walked over to the bed and carefully placed the bundle on it, leaning over to kiss it gently before she stood. When she turned, her expression had transformed once again. It was a more familiar expression – one he had seen just the night before. Angry, violent, and bloodthirsty.

She launched herself against the clear plastic partition – screaming. She flung herself at the window again and again.

"You killed them! You killed them! I will cut out your heart like you did mine you Bat-freak!"

Batman stood staring at her in silence as a Blackgate medical team rushed into Harley's cell. The woman didn't stop screaming until the Thorazine entered her bloodstream. The white bundle on the bed was simply a sheet wrapped up into the size and shape of an infant. He found out later from the shrinks that she'd been rocking and singing to it almost since the very moment she was put in her cell the day before.

Harley's behavior had shaken him. He left Blackgate having learned nothing about the twin's disappearance. Right now all he could do was analyze crime scene evidence and he was eager to get to it.

Back at the cave, he climbed out of the Batmobile and looked over at the monitors above the Cray supercomputer. Images on the screen were flipping from one mug shot to another of small time crooks at work in Gotham.

"Did you find anything?" he growled, as he pulled off his cape and cowl and walked toward the computer.

Slowly the chair turned around and he found himself staring into bright blue eyes. They looked on him with care and concern. The last time he'd seen them there was anger. A soft smile graced Diana's lips as she looked up at him.

"Nothing yet," she replied.

He stared for a moment, taking in the sight of her while attempting to ignore the very un-Batman-like flutters he felt every time he laid eyes on her. She was out of uniform, so this wasn't official League business. Instead, she wore a blue oxford shirt and faded blue jeans. She looked beautiful. At that moment, just seeing her made things a little easier to bear.

After several more seconds staring, he finally asked, "Where's Tim?"

"Upstairs," she replied. "He has a final exam early this morning so we thought it best for him to at least get a couple of hours of sleep. Dick is on his way to take over."

"Why are you here?"

"To see you."

"I don't want to talk about it."

Diana rose from the chair and took two steps toward him, stopping just inches away. She crossed her arms in front of her, standing toe to toe, face to face with him. She leveled her gaze directly into his eyes with a determined gleam.

"That's good, because I'm not here to talk."

His eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Then what are you here for?"

"An evaluation. Your behavior the last few weeks is concerning. You're more withdrawn than usual – which is really saying something. You haven't slept for at least two days - since you were taken hostage by _Harley Quinn_. I know better than to ask you to talk about that so I won't waste my breath. You are not following any of J'onn's recommendations regarding your health. My intent is to determine your fitness for active duty."

The small amount of relief he'd experienced when he first caught sight of her was quickly replaced by outrage. "I'm on temporary leave from the League. Get out."

"Your being on leave is irrelevant, Bruce. Even working minimally in the field as Batman, you could still be a risk to yourself or someone else. I'm here to evaluate that risk. The League will need you. I need to know that you are on your game physically and mentally."

"I won't be evaluated by you or anyone else," he growled at her.

"Bruce, I know that every minute counts looking for those girls. The chances of finding them alive after 24 hours are slim. Dick is on his way to help out while you get some rest. Tim will join after he gets back from class. Barbara is still looking through surveillance footage. As you know, the Amber Alert is up and the GCPD have roadblocks all over the city. Everything that can be done is being done."

He eyed her suspiciously. She knew far too much about the night's events. "Fitness for duty hell – Alfred called you."

"We compared notes," she agreed. "He was not pleased to have been kept in the dark about your blood tests, Bruce."

"How did he even get you to come down here?"

Diana arched a perfectly shaped eyebrow and remained silent.

"Right. It's Alfred. Diana, this is a waste of my time. I have work to do."

"Ok, Batman. Let's go then. It won't take long. Two out of three falls. I win and you sleep for six hours or until there is a break in the case. If you win, I can help you investigate or I can leave. Your choice."

"Fine." Realizing he wasn't going to get her to leave on her own, he reluctantly gave in. He turned his back and walked toward the training room. As he crossed the threshold, he began to take off his utility belt.

"No, Bruce."

He turned around to look back at her with a puzzled expression, but said nothing.

"Leave it on. This test is about how well you can deal with meta-level threats. Using all – or most – of the weapons at your disposal." She smiled sweetly at him as he glared at her.

He growled and turned his back on her again. He refastened his belt. Normally when they sparred, the emphasis was on testing each other's martial arts skill. Bruce would fight without his weapons and Diana wouldn't use her super-strength. Apparently, today would be different.

"Just try not to destroy my cave."

Diana followed Bruce to the center of the sparring mat. They faced each other and backed up a few steps. It was a routine they'd been through together many times. He waited for her to make the first move.

She feinted a roundhouse kick, but he saw it coming and ducked under her leg, attempting to block her follow up by hitting her with a hard right hook mid-turn. His right didn't connect, encountering nothing but air in front of him. Bruce experienced a second of surprise before he felt his feet knocked out from under him from behind and he landed hard on his back. He looked up to find Diana floating above him, grinning ear to ear. Again, he glared back.

"What? We set the ground rules. Weren't you listening? One for me."

He stayed on the floor for a moment, quickly processing all of his options for taking the next two falls. As with other metas with Class A strength, he needed to take care that she didn't land a direct hit. Any hits needed to be deflected as much as possible. He suspected that she still wouldn't use her full strength, but he still didn't want to risk any more cracked or broken ribs.

The weapons on his belt wouldn't be as effective on Diana as they were on Gotham's typical criminal masterminds. She would never be incapacitated long enough for him to come in and take her down with hand-to-hand combat. His best bet was to use a quick combination of attacks, designed to first distract, even just momentarily, and then bring her down from a distance. Although hand-to-hand with Diana was much more enjoyable.

He flipped up to a standing position, now entirely focused on Diana's movements, both on the ground and in the air. A split second after he landed on his feet, he threw several quick fire batarangs toward her. As she attempted to deflect them back toward him with her bracers, he somersaulted below her as the last batarang left his hand. In mid roll, he grabbed his Remote Electrical Charge or REC, adjusted the power, and sent a blast of electricity at her from behind. Her muscles immediately froze and she fell face forward to the training mat with a hard thud.

After a few seconds, Diana rolled onto her back. It was her turn to look up at him with a glare. "Ok. That's new."

"Not really," Bruce replied. "It's a good thing there's miles of rock under there, Princess. One for me." He smirked back at her.

Diana floated back up to her feet, turning her head so he wouldn't see her grin. Deciding to take a different tactic, she remained on the floor and rushed forward toward Batman. She swung and he dodged and deflected blows for several minutes before he grabbed a handful of smoke pellets in his left hand. Knowing she'd be able to see through the smoke quickly with her enhanced vision, he grabbed the Freeze Blast in his right. He threw the pellets at Diana's feet as he bent down to dodge another roundhouse kick, and then threw the Freeze Blast. The cold, blast of ice exploded at her mid-section. They didn't disable her but distracted her long enough for him to roll away, spin, then come back at Diana, sliding on the ground in an attempt to knock her feet out from under her.

Sensing that she needed to move, Diana shot into the air, above the smoke. Anticipating her move, Bruce grabbed the REC again as he slid, directing the stream of electricity directly above him, into the smoky haze. He couldn't see her from the floor, but her yell told him that he'd hit her. Her muscles seized again as the charge made contact and she fell through the smoke to the floor, landing on her hands and knees beside him. Taking advantage her position and seized muscles, he flipped her onto her back, straddled her hips between his knees and rested the palms of his hands flat on the floor on either side of her head.

"Two," he said, looking down at her.

It could have been that familiar rush of adrenaline he felt every time they sparred. It could have been her subtle, yet always intoxicating scent of jasmine. It could have been the way she was looking up at him with affection, not with anger after having been beaten. More than anything else it could have been the fact that he wanted her and at that moment in time he was too tired and emotionally spent to resist it. He needed to feel something other than despair and guilt. He needed her. He had for years. His body moved on its own volition.

It was tentative at first. He leaned down and gently brushed Diana's lips with his and then lifted his head to look at her. Her eyes narrowed and her brow furrowed as she studied him with a look of apprehension – of wariness. After a moment, she raised her hands to his shoulders and slowly slid them up, resting one on the back of his neck and burying the other in his thick black hair. Very gently she applied pressure and pulled his lips back down to hers. It was all the encouragement he needed to quickly drown her hesitant response in an eruption of raw passion.

Easing first onto his elbows, he lowered himself to rest the full weight of his body onto hers. Unsatisfied with the feel of her through his gloves, he shifted slightly to the side and quickly pulled them off, tossing them aside, and tangling the fingers of one hand through her soft hair and sliding the other under her hip. He pulled her roughly against him and the grip of his fingers in her hair tightened into a fist as he forced her open lips to his.

While he kissed her with desperation, he lifted the hand from her hip up to squeeze her breast before slowly sliding it across her stomach to the waistband of her jeans. He deftly unbuttoned them with one hand and eased down the zipper. His hand slipped underneath the denim.

"Bruce."

So lost in his own need, he didn't notice that she had stiffened. She pushed against him gently and said his name when his lips moved to her neck.

"Bruce, stop. Not this way." Her hands found his shoulders and pushed harder. The force sent him onto his back, directly beside her. Gasping for air, he stared at the ceiling as she pushed herself up to sit next to him. She turned her head to look at him as he lay beside her on the floor.

"Bruce?"

"I'm sorry," he said. He didn't meet her gaze but continued to look past her toward the ceiling.

When she lifted one hand to rest on his chest, he jumped to his feet and walked away from her. His escape was stayed when he felt one firm, yet gentle hand on his shoulder. He stopped but didn't turn to face her. He couldn't.

"Bruce, I wish that I could provide you some measure of comfort. But unless I can be sure that it would mean more than some temporary distraction…"

It would mean more. He willed himself to say the words. They didn't come.

"I understand." He sighed and his shoulders slumped. It was all he could say.

"It wasn't your fault, Bruce. She knows that you tried…" His back straightened beneath her hand, which hadn't left his shoulder.

"I have work to do." He finally took a step forward.

She sighed audibly from behind him.

"Would you like my help?"

He finally turned to look at her, his expression emotionless. "No," he replied.

She looked crestfallen, but turned to leave. He grabbed her hand before she could take a step toward the door. In spite of everything that he wanted and knew he couldn't have – just her presence brought him comfort. It was something else that he wished he could tell her.

"Diana… thank you."

She lifted the hand he was holding up to his cheek. His hand moved with hers.

"Bruce, the League didn't send me to test you…I only came because…"

"I know why you came."

She leaned toward him and kissed him chastely before she turned to leave again.

At the door to the training room, she turned back to look at him one last time.

"If you need me…"

"I know," he replied.

Just as the door of the training room closed behind her, he suddenly felt as if he couldn't breathe. His chest felt tight – like it was caught in the grip of a vise. He gasped for air until he fell to his knees.

Finally, when he felt like he could pull some bit of air into his lungs, he stood. It was time to work.

**E/N:** So again, reviews are much desired. I don't deny it. Keep them coming and much, much more is promised. I have something very huge and very hot planned for you in a few chapters. ;D


	4. Unknown

**Chapter 4…**

**Author Notes:**

Your reviews have been amazing. THANK YOU! I know that this chapter is mostly plot development but is more significant in that respect than it may appear.

In the game Arkham City, Bruce Wayne is arrested by Hugo Strange's mercenaries while speaking out against the open-air super-prison. This was done to keep Batman from interfering in his plans. Hugo Strange explains that Bruce Wayne is much easier to capture than Batman.

(from Batman wiki) **Emergency Protocol 10**, mostly referred to as **Protocol 10**, is a last-resort/highest security method used to control the criminals in Arkham City by using TYGER to kill all of the inmates contained within.

(from Batman wiki) **TYGER** is a private military contractor/security company that was hired by Hugo Strange and Quincy Sharp to act as the security detail of Arkham City. However unknown to the general public, the company, and it's security forces was made of people (some of them former inmates) brainwashed and controlled by Strange.

Disclaimer: All recognizable characters, events, and music are the property of their respective owners. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended. No profit is being made.

As always, thanks to DaisyJane for the beta. Now for more Batasskicking…

* * *

**UNKNOWN**

_youtube - wurKe-JMNTA_

A stocky, yet muscular man glanced around quickly before beginning a steady climb up the fire escape of a vacant apartment building. At every level the man would pause and look around him, presumably to make sure he wasn't being followed or watched. Little did he know that he was.

From the shadows on a nearby rooftop, the man's movements were being carefully observed. Batman shot his grapnel and lifted off into the air, dropping gracefully and invisibly onto a higher building with a better vantage point. He moved into the shadows again and watched as the man climbed higher.

Adjusting the settings on his cowl, he scanned the roof of the building above the man, taking note of six more men standing together and positioned at the one end where the roof access would block some of the wind whipping in from the bay. On the fire escape, the single man entered a vacant apartment through a window and several minutes later exited the building from the roof access. Batman adjusted the settings again to pick up some of their conversation.

"Man, do we really need to meet on the roof? It's freezing up here."

"You can see the bank from here. We need to come up with a plan."

"We're still planning on knocking over Gotham National? With what? That lead pipe you got?"

"We'll get some guns. You wanna eat right? Now's the time. Do it during the day and there's no Bat or sidekicks to deal with. The GCPD is busy hunting those kids and keeping guys out of Arkham City. We'll be in and out before they even get there."

_Ok. Enough of this._ He jumped away from his perch and landed on the roof at the opposite corner from where the men were huddled together. Stealth wasn't required. They heard it the moment his boots hit the roof.

Seven heads turned in Batman's direction.

"Oh, crap," one of them said.

He stood and waited. After a moment's hesitation, all seven charged him at once.

The fastest of the group, wielding a long knife, got to him first. He dodged three swings of the knife attack, grabbing the man's arm with his left hand on the third swing. He bent it until he heard the crack of bone and delivered a hard right to the man's face. Using the leverage he held in his left hand, he bent his opponent forward and delivered a knee to his face and sent him across the roof, unconscious. Six.

Three more came at him. He knocked one back with his left fist and another with his right. Their momentum took two of their partners with them and all four landed sprawling on their backs. He flipped over the man coming at him and delivered a foot to the face of yet another, rendering him unconscious. Five.

As the four men on the ground struggled to their feet, he whipped around to face the one still standing. He leapt into the air, above the pipe that was swung at him and landed on the man's chest driving him to the ground with a hard punch to the face that knocked him out cold. Four.

All four came at him. He grabbed the first two around the throat with each hand and knocked them to the ground simultaneously. He again flipped over the third man and knocked the fourth to the ground while turning and grabbing the third man in a chokehold and rendering him unconscious with a hard blow. Three.

He shot the grapnel at one of the remaining men and yanked him off his feet. Retracting the grapnel, the man came flying toward him, hitting the ground with a knee to the face. Two.

Batman ducked the chair that came flying toward him and threw a freeze blast to immobilize the first thug. Whipping around he knocked the second remaining thug to the ground with a roundhouse kick and quickly jumped on him, knocking him unconscious. One.

He turned just as the man struggled free of the blast of ice. He grabbed the last one standing, flipped him over in midair and hit him. He let go and the man dropped to the roof, unconscious. Done.

As he deposited the bound and unconscious thugs on the sidewalk for pickup by the GCPD, Batman glanced over at the digital clock outside Gotham National Bank. 5:12 A.M. He sighed and shot off his grapnel into the air, making his way back to the Batmobile.

He knew the statistics all too well. In 89% of child abduction murders, the child is killed within those first twenty-four hours. Through the night, that twenty-four hour mark had come and gone. The sun would soon begin to rise over Gotham. Those two young girls were out there somewhere in this dark and dangerous city, that much he knew. He had no idea if they were still breathing, but they were here. With each passing moment, it was less likely they would be found alive. And the clock kept ticking.

The Gotham City Police were still canvassing door to door in the area around the bar. They'd searched every building for blocks around the crime scene. They'd torn apart the tiny apartment and apartment building that the couple and their children lived in. Batman knew the GCPD would continue at this pace for several more days, maybe a week, before they stopped. He didn't think they would find anything.

Since the sun had set in Gotham the evening before, Batman and Nightwing had been rounding up thugs, questioning them, and sending them to the hospital. For the most part they had been former Arkham City inmates that hadn't yet been recaptured after Protocol 10. He and Dick had recovered over two dozen in the last nine hours. Unfortunately, dozens more were still in hiding throughout Gotham City.

Once the TYGER mercenaries that Hugo Strange had hired for security and subsequent extermination of the entire inmate population of Arkham City were taken out, it had unfortunately become far too easy for many to escape the walls of the prison and meld into the populous of Gotham. The GCPD had been depleted by injury, death, and exhaustion during the Protocol 10 siege and there just hadn't been enough resources to both secure the perimeter of the prison and adequately search the interior. Searching every possible hiding place in the five square miles Arkham City occupied would take months. Violent crime activity had lulled in the city while most of the criminals were in hiding so the GCPD had contented themselves to focusing on the securing the perimeter of the prison and allowing SWAT to search inside. Now with law enforcement focusing on the missing children, resources were spread very, very thin.

He'd allowed Tim to continue to help with the investigation from the cave. The kid was brilliant and had meticulously been going over every shred of evidence, both physical and circumstantial. The killer had been sitting at the bar when he killed the girls' father and the blood spray had obliterated any fingerprints. He took the murder weapon with him. He probably hadn't stopped to pay his tab, so no cash or credit cards to trace. The one thing that the killer had left behind was an abundance of bloody footprints. Size 10, corrections issue sneakers. The same kind given to prisoners at Blackgate and Arkham City. Just one piece of evidence that supported something he already knew – the perpetrator was a former Arkham City resident.

One question nagged at him. Why _these _little girls? Most kids were abducted by a family member or an acquaintance, basically people the kids knew. So, standard protocol was to look into the background of Joe and Rachel James. From all accounts the two didn't have any attachments to anyone but each other. Their common interest was using drugs, a habit that Mrs. James supported by turning tricks. It was possible, but unlikely, that a dealer had killed the two men and taken the girls. If taking the girls was meant to gain leverage to get paid, they went about it all wrong – it is much harder to get money from a dead man. If the killer was worried about leaving witnesses, they would have just killed the girls too.

It also didn't make sense – thank God – that the killer was a pedophile with a penchant for preschoolers. They tended to take a kid that was easy to grab unseen. Killing these two men took a lot of effort. There were plenty of unsupervised kids around, this would have been too much work. No, there was a reason that these two girls were targeted specifically. The killer wanted _them _– the murders were just a means to an end.

Barbara had found nothing so far on security footage. Unfortunately, most of the security cameras just outside the walls of Arkham City were broken or had been disabled. Batman knew that Hugo Strange himself had supplied the inmates with the guns that would justify activating Emergency Protocol 10. In all likelihood it had been Strange's henchman that had sabotaged the cameras outside the walls to provide additional cover for the influx of weapons into the prison. He himself had destroyed most of the cameras inside the prison to avoid TYGER security forces, so there were no eyes on much of worst parts of Gotham City.

Dropping to the ground next to the Batmobile, he took a moment to catch his breath before climbing inside. He felt like hell. Death warmed over. It was nearly dawn and he was feeling the effects of days without sleep and nights of extreme wear and tear on his body – especially his knuckles – from what were becoming systematic, efficient, and brutal "interviews" of potential witnesses. It didn't help that the tightness and pain in his chest had been getting worse. It was so hard to breathe sometimes that it felt like Grundy was sitting on his chest. The exhaustion was there too, but he was used to pushing through that. Yes, he needed to rest, but that would have to wait.

The sun was rising by the time he drove through the entrance to the cave. He'd sent Nightwing back hours ago to get some sleep. His partner hadn't been happy about it, but he left anyway. They all had been giving Batman wide berth over the last couple of weeks. However, thanks to Diana and Alfred "comparing notes" on his blood tests, over the last day and night Dick's frustration with him had grown exponentially. Although he was usually good-natured and animated, Dick was clearly furious and had been sullen the entire night.

Bruce blew into the cave and stopped on the rotating platform that turned the car 180 degrees, keeping it ready for quick departures from the cave. He caught sight of Dick out of the corner of his eye as he climbed out of the car. The look on his face told him instantly that his son's temper was about to blow.

Dick was standing at the end of the ramp that led from the parking bay to the central computer. He had showered and changed and appeared to have been waiting awhile for Batman's return to the cave. Bruce avoided eye contact as he pushed back his cowl and walked by his son. He made his way toward a workbench, with the intent of restocking his utility belt before leaving the cave to go out again. Dick followed him and Bruce could feel the glare directed at his back.

"You said you were right behind me."

He didn't turn. "I came across a couple more former Arkham City inmates. Nothing I couldn't handle," Bruce replied as he restocked his belt. When he finished, he fastened it around his waist and walked back across the cave.

Dick followed him into the hangar, towards the Batwing, currently suspended by reinforced cables from the cave ceiling.

"You aren't leaving," Dick said as he followed Bruce over to a control panel along the edge of the room.

"I am," was Bruce's emotionless reply. He entered a few numbers into the keypad on the consol and the aircraft began to lower to the cave floor.

"Damn it Bruce. Stop. You need sleep. You need food. Can't you slow down and give your body time to recover from that pestilence Joker put in you?"

"I'm fine. I have a job to do."

"Right. The job we've been doing all night. Looking for those girls. You know that they're probably dead by now Bruce. We won't stop looking, but it's time for you to take a break."

Bruce didn't respond. He walked toward the plane and circled it slowly, engaging in the task of completing an external maintenance check of the plane, noting tire pressure and checking for broken or malfunctioning lights that he knew didn't exist.

"You're not investigating the abductions are you?" Dick accused. "We all know you've been looking for Talia. If you know the computer system, it's easy enough to figure out where you've been going. Lazarus Pits. There's no point in trying to hide it."

"I wasn't. If I were, you wouldn't know about it."

"Then why haven't you told us?"

"You didn't ask."

Dick sighed, his frustration giving way to fatigue. "She's dead Bruce…and even if she isn't dead anymore, you know what the Lazarus Pit could do to her. Do you really want to find her – to see what she's become? This can wait."

Bruce pulled the cowl back down over his face and climbed up into the Batwing. Without a word, Batman lowered the hatch on the plane and fired up the engine. Five seconds later, he was gone.

* * *

Seven and half hours later, Batman returned to the cave. He had finally found something. He hadn't found Talia at the pit, but she'd been there. What he had found was an inoperable tracking device, shaped like a bat. If it was left behind at a Lazarus Pit, she'd left it herself and she'd left it intentionally. He'd keep looking for her but it really didn't matter that much when he found her. When she was ready, she would find him.

He quickly showered and changed and headed back to the computer terminal, finally thinking that when he was done with his logs and update the progress on the abduction investigation, he could possibly get some sleep.

As he approached, he found Alfred waiting with a tray of food. It was nearly two in the afternoon and he hadn't eaten anything since before patrol last night. He wasn't really hungry, but he doubted that Alfred would leave until he ate.

"Any luck, sir?"

Bruce stole a sideways glance at his surrogate father. "Yes and no. She had been to this one and she wanted me to know that she had." He held out the bat-shaped transmitter in the palm of his hand.

"So…she's back then."

"In some form, so it seems."

"Master Bruce, to your credit you haven't verbalized it, but I know that on some level you believe I share the blame for Miss Talia's death." An uncustomary look of apprehension flitted across the elder man's face. "Although you will still no doubt consider my preventing you from going to her immediately when she was taken by Joker, the fact that she's been brought back may perhaps allow you a new focus of your attention and hopefully a little less guilt. I only hope that when you find her, that her mind is intact."

"Such that it was I suppose," Bruce sighed as he took the tracking device and placed it on the computer station. "You did what you thought was necessary, Alfred. I needed to stop Strange and Protocol 10 first. As it was hundreds died before I was able to. With Talia, I can sometimes be less than objective."

"A lack of objectivity does not necessarily have to come with any and all romantic attachments, Master Bruce. Perhaps with someone with your same dedication, quest for justice-"

"Alfred." _Diana again._

"Yes, sir. I will let it be. For now, I shall content myself with harassing you about your health." Alfred walked over to the tray he had placed near the computer and pulled the lid off of a large antique silver ice bucket. "I do hope that you indulge me by eating the meal I've prepared. However, I must insist that you consume the contents of this bucket as well as the multivitamins."

Bruce stood and bent over to peer into the bucket. There was a large bottle of water and three smaller bottles. His eyes shot up in surprise as he took note of the latter.

"Ensure Clinical Strength – Strawberries and Cream. From your personal stash Alfred? No time for food shopping?"

"You will be drinking no fewer than two of these with every meal to boost your immune system. You will drink them _before_ every meal since you tend to get distracted and not finish my gourmet, yet nutritionally rich meals."

"Fine. Could we do the chocolate next time though?" Bruce said as he reached into the bucket and took out one of the small bottles.

"Certainly." Alfred paused a moment to watch his charge quickly down one of the bottles of pink fluid. "Master Bruce, there is another matter of some concern that we should discuss."

"And that would be?"

"Bruce Wayne has been noticeably absent from any social gatherings these last few weeks. Since his brief incarceration in Arkham City, to be exact. There has developed some considerable debate in the media as to what might have happened inside the prison walls that would have been so traumatizing it would force Bruce Wayne to go into hiding."

Bruce frowned. He had been hoping to avoid providing an explanation to the press about Bruce Wayne's night in Arkham City. "What do they think happened?"

"Well, sir. It's only in the less reputable tabloids now, but they are insinuating that certain actualities of prison life are significantly more likely to happen to a handsome rich playboy."

"Wonderful."

"Quite. Might I suggest a fundraiser this evening in Metropolis? You had RSVP'd some time ago. Perhaps take a date that will attract significant attention? I believe that Master Kent or Miss Lane might be helpful in re-establishing your reputation?"

"Ok. Make the arrangements for transportation. I'll let you know the details about my date as soon as I know myself."

"Very good, sir. Perhaps you can spend some of the next few hours getting some much needed rest?"

Bruce leaned his head against the back of his chair. "I will try to sleep for a few hours, Alfred."

"Thank you, sir."

He sat and watched the older man ascend the stairway up to the main house. It was necessary, but he could think of nothing he wanted to do less than to put on a show for the Metropolis society pages. It was hard enough doing so when he only had to converse for a few minutes at a time while mingling – putting on a show for some publicity hungry socialite was not something he had the patience for this evening. The only way to avoid that would be to take someone that he didn't have to put on an act for.

He picked up the secure phone integrated into the supercomputer system.

"Hi. I need a favor. Do you have plans tonight?"

* * *

_The security in Gotham's Criminal Court building was a little better than in the Family Court division, but not by much. He sat there watching the comings and goings. Family after broken, dysfunctional family entered and exited the courtroom. Some left happy, most did not. After several hours, he saw her. She was a bit older than the other two, but he needed her to be. The young girl was holding a baby boy and arguing with her mother. Something about the Judge telling her mother that George wasn't allowed to be at their house and definitely not around the girl. George,, the mother's boyfriend, was also the baby's father - the girl's younger brother._

_The girl and her mother continued to argue as they left the building. He got up to follow. He didn't really need the little boy. Maybe a little boy would be nice, though. At any rate, he could use the kid to help control the girl._

**End Notes: **Reviews are motivating, so please keep them coming. I promise angst and more BMWW in the next.


	5. Enough

**A/N: **Thank you to everyone who reviewed the last chapter even though it had a little (a lot) less action. You have no idea how much it means for my motivation. From here on out there should be at least some BMWW in each chapter.

As always, another grateful thank you to DaisyJane for her beta. Her subtle and not-so-subtle changes make all the difference in the world.

Disclaimer: All recognizable characters, events, and music are the property of their respective owners. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended. No profit is being made.

* * *

**ENOUGH**

_youtube - rnOTG0uCs5A_

He had flown them in the Wayne Enterprises corporate helicopter from the grounds of Wayne Manor to a private airfield in Metropolis, where a limousine was waiting for their use. With Alfred now behind the wheel, Bruce was, for the first time that evening, alone with his date. They spent the first several minutes riding in silence as Bruce's mind immediately went back to what had consumed him over the last few days - the investigation and the missing girls.

"You look like hell Bruce."

With the comment, Bruce Wayne was broken out of his silent cogitation. His eyes, having been fixed on the floor, began a migration upward as he regarded the woman sitting across from him. His gaze traveled slowly, delaying eye contact and the subsequent conversation it would entail for as long as possible. Black Valentino platform pumps, legs almost fully visible beneath the thigh high slit of her black Herve Leger gown. His eyes to traveled up the contours of her sinewy legs, the slope of her hips, and the swell of her breasts.

"See something you like?" a coyly seductive voice inquired.

Finally his gaze leveled on wide green eyes. "You look as lovely as always, Selina."

"The dress is nice. You have good taste," she said as caressed the satiny material of her dress.

"Not my good taste. I apologize that it's off the rack. Alfred wasn't given much notice."

"Alfred? I'm surprised he picked something so gorgeous. He doesn't seem to like me much," Selina pouted.

"He would never allow Bruce Wayne's date to look anything but gorgeous. Besides, it's not really you that's bothering him. It's who you are not."

"Oh?" She seemed to perk up at the news. Bruce could tell she was highly curious.

He returned her question with a wry half-grin. "Another time, maybe."

"Uh-huh," she said with a roll of her eyes. "Mind telling me why I'm really here? It's not like you can't find yourself a date with a better reputation."

"Actually, you are going to help me revive _my_ reputation. Such that it is."

"Why do you need me for that? Any oversexed socialite or movie star would do."

"It seems I also need to provide some detail to the press regarding Bruce Wayne's brief incarceration in Arkham City."

"Ah…and how might I be involved with that?" she said with narrowed eyes at him.

"An alibi. You found me…and took me in for the night. All night."

"So then, _I'm_ the inmate that made you their bitch?" she said as she started to laugh.

"Selina," Bruce sighed.

"It's been a long time, Bruce. Perhaps I need a refresher on what spending the night with Bruce Wayne is like in order to be convincing?" she said with more laughter in her voice. She licked her lips and winked at him.

"Selina," he said more sternly this time.

She rolled her eyes and sighed. "You've gotten so boring. Where is your sense of fun?" Bruce just raised an eyebrow at her. "Seriously though, I suppose I do owe you one. You did post my bail and get my sentence changed to probation. I suppose that can be explained as a thank you for my services in Arkham City?"

"It works as far as the press is concerned. It really was for saving my life." His brow furrowed for a moment. "Selina, it's OK if you don't want to do this. It doesn't necessarily help your reputation. It is a lot to ask."

"You are kidding, aren't you?" she said as she started laughing again and poured herself some of the champagne chilling in a bucket next to her. He should have known that Selina would enjoy this situation just for the pure hell of it.

They sat in silence for the rest of the drive to the Hotel Metropolis where a fundraiser gala for the National Court Appointed Special Advocates Association was being held. CASA volunteers were appointed by judges to watch over and advocate for abused and neglected children in an overburdened legal and social service system. Grants from the federal government helped to support local chapters all over the country, but there were always more children in need and costs to cover. Bruce's mind couldn't escape the irony of him attending this event as his thoughts returned to the missing little girls.

As they pulled up to front entrance, Bruce fell into his rich, playboy philanthropist role, exiting the car with a lazy, aloof grin on his face. He turned and took Selina by the hand, helping her out of the car. She immediately adopted her 'I'm a bad girl but you love me anyway' attitude.

Given the work of the charity involved, the tone of the event was not intended to be ostentatious. The organizers dispensed with the red carpet and press free-for-all. There was, however, a horde of photographers and reporters from the less reputable tabloids and internet news sites crowded around the entrance. Bruce pushed past them, while Selina gave them a teasing smile as he dragged her along, ignoring their shouted questions. Inside, there were a dozen or so members of the television and print media elite that had been invited to attend in order to cover the event.

As much as Bruce Wayne was notorious for fast cars and faster women, having Selina Kyle on his arm created significant attention. True to form, it didn't faze Selina at all to be circling a room full of members of the judicial system. She chatted away with attorneys, judges, and ranking members of the Metropolis Police Department. She used her innate charm and fantastic looks make them forget she was somebody often on the wrong side of the law. She seemed to be enjoying herself. A little too much.

It wasn't long after they arrived, that Bruce became impatient. He had not intended on a long evening at this event. Several times he had explained his "rescue" by Selina in Arkham City. But it wasn't enough.

He glanced around the room and caught sight of Lois Lane chatting with several other members of the media near the bar.

"Selina, my dear, would you like another drink?" he asked, excusing them from a small group of attorneys and wealthy aristocrats. He took her by the hand and let her over to the bar and the small group of journalists. As they approached, Lois eyed Selina and shot him a suspicious look.

"Good evening, Lois. Gentlemen," said Bruce. "I believe you know my companion this evening?"

"Of course, no one is likely to forget meeting Selina Kyle," Lois replied as she air kissed his companion. Her tone was appropriately professional but her demeanor was ice cold. Her expression reflected that she less than pleased at making the introduction. She never had liked the cat and mouse game Bruce played with Selina. Knowing Lois, he doubted that it had anything to do with their past relationship. It was more likely that she resented the fact that her husband's close friend and colleague consorted with a known criminal. That said friend and colleague was now off-planet, Superman being called away for a mission that afternoon with Green Lantern.

"You look well, Lois. Beautiful as always."

"Wish I could say the same, Bruce," she replied, sizing him up with a look of concern that he ignored.

A reporter from the Metropolis News Channel turned to him, "Still recovering from your incarceration, Bruce?"

Bruce offered a wry smile. "Actually, I was far luckier than most of the residents of Arkham City. My guardian angel here pulled me out of a building that collapsed when the bombing started. Then she took me in for the night." He pulled Selina close and kissed her cheek as he caressed her hip.

Selina gave him a half lidded look and a seductive smile."It was my pleasure, Bruce. That certainly was the most enjoyable night I've spent in jail."

He turned back to Lois, who was now looking at him questioningly. She had already heard from Clark what had really happened to Bruce in Arkham City. He caught Lois's eye and nodded his head imperceptibly toward Selina. After years of protecting the identities of superheroes, she knew when she was hearing a cover story – and would make sure it appeared in the next issue of the Daily Planet. Lois nodded once in return, then her eyes suddenly widened as she focused on something behind him. He turned his head and immediately saw what had caught Lois's attention.

_Diana._

It lasted just a moment, but as their eyes met he caught the hurt look that crossed her features before she covered it with a regal smile and looked away to pick up a glass of champagne at the bar. She'd heard it all. He hadn't noticed her arrive - she wasn't supposed to be there. She wasn't on the guest list, but the Vice President was. Which meant that his current head of security, King Faraday, was also there and Diana was on his arm.

* * *

Nobody would notice unless they'd been watching him closely. _Very closely_. He was grateful that Selina was distracted by whatever personal agenda she had for the evening so that he could give his attention to the princess. He'd had years of practice covertly watching Diana's every move. Granted, it was easier to pull off with the cowl.

As always, she was the most beautiful and graceful woman in the room. Her blue silk organza Carolina Herrera gown was hand-painted with undulating lines and she seemed to float around the room while never leaving the floor. She spent the evening charming politicians and wealthy businessmen alike, deliberately taking time to speak to the dozens of CASA volunteers also attending the event. More than once he heard her refer to them as the "real heroes".

Eventually, he saw her excuse herself from her date and make her way in the general direction of the ladies room, only to quietly slip out onto one of the balconies instead. It was obvious to him, if to no one else, that what she sought was a little solitude.

He glanced in the other direction. Selina was currently engrossed in a flirtatious conversation with a former Gotham Deputy DA who was now a high profile defense attorney for a firm in Metropolis. He had no idea what she was up to, but she was occupied for the moment. He made his way out to the balcony.

Diana was looking out at the night skyline, her back to him. Metropolis was a city that looked bright, shiny and gleaming, even under the cover of darkness. So unlike his city. Gotham had its own beauty, a beauty was cloaked in darkness and mystery but it was still there, at least for him.

Her hands were wrapped tightly around the iron railing. The whiteness of her knuckles were evidence of her tension. She knew he was behind her. Bruce silently moved to her side and covered her left hand with his own. She lowered her eyes to look at their hands and he heard her soft inhale and exhale of breath.

He squeezed her hand gently. "I didn't know you would be here. You look beautiful."

"It was a last minute invitation…" she said softly.

They both stood silently for a few moments, her looking down at their joined hands and him gazing intently at her profile.

"Did she really help you while you were in there?"

"She did."

"I'm glad someone was there for you – that you allowed her to help."

"I didn't really allow her to do anything. She really pulled me out of some rubble. If she hadn't come for me, I'm not sure if I would have made it out at all."

Diana paused briefly before responding, "…I'll have to thank her then."

"Princess…" he said softly as his right hand found its way to her forearm. He drew his fingers slowly up her arm, watching the small bumps raise on her smooth skin as he traced a line from her wrist to her shoulder. His gaze returned to her face, he watched as her eyes closed when he gently brushed back her hair and began to stroke her bare shoulder with his thumb.

"We're being watched?" she asked, eyes still closed.

"Yes," he replied, noting the couple on the far end of the balcony, out of earshot but watching them with great interest.

"And of course it would raise suspicion if Bruce Wayne did not make advances upon discovering me alone on a dark balcony?"

"It would." At least that's what he told himself.

She opened her eyes and turned slightly to look at him. "Ah, so this is part of the performance then."

"It's never an act with you, Princess."

She sighed. "Don't, Bruce. Things are as you want them to be," she said as she gently shook her head and looked back out at the city.

"Not as I want them, as they have to be."

She stiffened slightly at his words and then took a step away, withdrawing her hand. It was a conversation they'd had many times before and he could see it was not one that she wanted to have again. "I should find King and you need to get back to your date."

"Diana, wait. I wanted to talk to you. With Selina, I wanted you to understand that it's not –"

"You don't owe me an explanation. I don't need one." The look in her eyes calm and kind. The emotion within still reflected her affection for him, but differently than they had previously. The hopefulness was gone. He quickly squashed the surge of panic he felt with that realization. He had no right to it.

"Bruce, please take better care of yourself. It's obvious that you're not." she added before she turned and walked back into the ballroom.

As he watched her go, that familiar internal battle erupted, same as it always had. The part of him that wanted to go after her was fighting the part of him that needed to push her away. That war had just begun when he felt a vibration in the jacket pocket of his Armani tux. He pulled out his PDA and found a secure communication from Barbara waiting. He typed in the password.

_B, the attached found in today's mail delivery to Blackgate. Addressed to Harley Quinn._ Bruce hit a few more buttons on the keypad and a scanned photo was displayed.

An odd feeling of relief mixed with horror swept through him. The two missing girls solemn, scared faces appeared on the small screen. Their blonde hair was pulled back into pigtails. The girls wore white makeup, with black smudges rimming their eyes. Their lips were painted red. They both were dressed in black and red. They looked exactly like miniature versions of Harley Quinn. The photo was disturbing, but Bruce felt some small amount of relief. He had no idea yet where they were or what they were going through, but this photo meant that they were probably still alive and without obvious injury.

It was time for Bruce Wayne to leave. He needed to get that photo to the lab in the cave for analysis. The paper it was printed on, the ink that was used, the kind of camera used to take the photo, and anything in the background of the photo itself could help to identify the killer and location of where the girls were being held. Alive. And somehow he needed to get information from Harley Quinn.

With a plan formulating, he stepped back into the ballroom, eyes zeroing in on Selina. She was still engaged in a seductive banter with the former Gotham City District Attorney. With a predatory swagger, he made his way over to her and slipped his arm around her waist.

"Darling, it's time to go. Now." He made sure the attorney saw the hungry look in his eyes.

Selina gave Bruce a small grimace before she turned back to the man standing next to her. "Perhaps we can do this again another time, Michael? I have your card." Selina smiled at the lawyer while tucking the card into the bodice of her dress. Bruce grabbed her free hand and pulled her forcefully across the ballroom to the exit.

As soon as they were alone in the back of the limousine, Selina sat back and crossed her arms and glared at Bruce. "Ok, so what was that really about?"

"I need your help with something else. I want you to steal something for me."

* * *

Six hours later, Batman sat in front of the largest monitor in the cave watching Catwoman being escorted by two burly female prison guards to what currently served as the women's cellblock at Blackgate Penitentiary. The picture was from Selina's point of view, the video feed from a wireless camera attached to the front of her prison uniform. Bruce watched as Selina appeared to be shoved unceremoniously into a cell. The cell directly across from Harley Quinn.

Several hours before, Alfred Pennyworth had placed a call from Wayne Manor to the Gotham PD. One of their houseguests had left during the night, taking a number of valuable items with her. Despite being short-staffed already, the former Deputy, now Acting Mayor directed that several units be sent out to track down Ms. Kyle. The mayor's office and Gotham City Council were eager to avoid the filing of any civil suit for false arrest and wrongful imprisonment by Bruce Wayne's million-dollar attorneys. Ms. Selina Kyle had been promptly arrested, processed and put back in Blackgate Penitentiary. Selina's skills and likelihood of escape made it a foregone conclusion that she'd be housed with Harley Quinn in maximum security, despite the crime being petty theft.

It was a long shot, but Harley was more likely to talk to Selina than to him or any cop.

"Selina, clear your throat if you can still hear me." So she could take direction from him, he had given her a tiny communicator that was inside her ear, invisible to anyone around her.

"_Ah-hmmm._ _I don't know how I let myself get dragged back into this place again," she muttered._

"Focus. Two missing girls. Do you need to see that picture again? Now, move back to the front near the Plexiglas partition. I want to see what she's doing."

Selina turned around and walked forward toward the door of her cell. _"You know you're the biggest hypocrite on the planet. You're all for using my skills and reputation to your advantage but when I do the same you send me to jail."_

"I'm not trying to rob people," Bruce said dryly.

_"Humph!"_ He could just imagine her glare and he grinned as he returned focus to his work. It wasn't yet morning, so all he could see across the corridor was a dark shape lying on the bed. It would be a little while yet before they could get anything out of her.

"You might as well lie down and get some rest Selina. It could be a couple of hours."

"_Just great,"_ she muttered under her breath.

He watched as the view of the cell changed and all that was visible was the ceiling. Bruce sat back in his chair and looked toward the lab, where he could see Tim hard at work with the photograph. It had been a challenge actually getting his hands on it. As this was a missing child case, the FBI had sent agents to assist in the investigation. They were insistent in maintaining the chain of possession of this piece of evidence and were not willing to allow Jim Gordon to turn it over to him. Deciding it would take too much time to utilize League connections to get the photo, the FBI was now unknowingly analyzing an exceptionally well-done forgery. The FBI was good, but he was better. Much better. And faster.

Over the transmitter he recognized the familiar sound of Selina's even breathing. He closed his eyes. He still needed to rest and here was as good as anywhere.

"_Ah-hmmm."_

_A sigh. Then louder, "Ah-hmmm!"_

Jolted out of his slumber, Bruce abruptly sat up in his chair. "Sorry, Selina. I'm here. Get up and walk around."

His view of the cell changed as she began to move. Finally, the cell across from hers came into view. Harley was awake and pacing the room, again carrying the white bundle in her arms. She was shaking it gently and making _'Shhh… Shhh…'_ sounds. Bruce resisted the urge to shudder. The sight had grown no less disturbing than before.

"_Christ…"_ Selina whispered under her breath, also clearly disturbed by what she saw.

"Easy. Try and talk to her."

"_Hey, Har. How's kicks?"_

Bruce rolled his eyes. That's the best she could do?

Harley turned and stared coldly at Selina before turning her attention back to the bundle in her arms.

"_Harley, I'm really sorry for your loss."_

Selina got no better of a response with her second try. Harley simply glared at her before beginning to hum quietly.

"_Any ideas?" Selina whispered._

He didn't immediately respond. He really didn't have an idea – he'd interviewed plenty of Gotham's psychopathic villains, but this was a different, more pathetic kind of pathology than he'd seen before.

Selina apparently became impatient with his silence and tried again.

"_I had a baby girl."_

That caught Harley's attention. It caught Bruce's too. He wondered if she was making this up to get Harley to talk.

Harley looked at Selina with surprise. _"You did?" she asked breathlessly and wide-eyed._

"_I did," Selina replied. "It was a long time ago. I was very young and had just started living this…alternative lifestyle, so to speak. Just started, but I already had plenty of enemies. It wasn't safe, so I had to give her up. I couldn't take care of her and I didn't want her in danger."_

"_Where is she now?" Harley asked._

"_She was adopted by a nice, normal family. Sometimes when I leave town I go and see her. I don't talk to her, but I watch her. She looks happy."_

Bruce sat back in his chair. Something in Selina's voice told him that she was telling the truth about this. His mind quickly went back to their early days together. A pressure was adding to the tightness in his chest that had been getting worse for days. He forced himself to breathe slowly and focus on their conversation.

_After a few silent moments, Harley's voice was low and menacing, "I wanted to have Mista J's baby. But Batman killed him. Then he killed my baby. Now I'm gonna kill him."_

* * *

_He crouched in the shadows next to her house. The baby was crying. She and her mother were talking. Arguing. Screaming. About George again. She didn't want him there. He was the baby's father, the mother said. The mother told her that he had a right to see him no matter what the judge said. The judge said he wasn't supposed to go near her. The mother told her that George would never touch her, that he had the mother. Then the mother told her that none of this would have happened if she didn't dress like such a slut. She told the mother that she would leave. The mother said go ahead, I left home at fourteen, you can too. They continued to scream at each other. The baby kept crying._

_He silently entered the house. There was more screaming. Then it was quiet._

* * *

**E/N: **So, a few things. I hope you are sufficiently disturbed. That's what I'm going for.

Also, for some time I have felt a need to conjure up a cover story for what happened to Bruce Wayne after he was arrested and put in Arkham City.

Lastly, CASA is a real organization with incredibly dedicated individuals doing a very difficult and important job – for free. As it is relevant to this interest of ours, I suggest you check out the website superherorun – dot – com and support your local chapter. We'll be dressing the kids up and going. Although I'll be seriously bummed if all the capes are red. :D

Before I go, I'll add my standard solicitation for reviews. I'm really struggling with Chapter 6, so your encouragement would be very much appreciated. Constructive feedback – good or bad - is also welcome. I also promised something really hot and lemony and it will happen...soon.

Wishing all you gamers a Happy Easter. ;)


	6. Breathing

******Chapter 6…**

**A/N: **As always, thank you to DaisyJane for making the time to beta for me. Thank you to those who are reviewing – it does inspire me to get a little more done.

To SorryStickler (my anonymous reviewer). I'm glad you like the story. I did go back and check out the interview tape of Selina by Hugo Strange though. He assumes she doesn't know the Batman's identity. She doesn't explicitly confirm or deny. My interpretation – she's way too smart to acknowledge that she does.

Disclaimer: All recognizable characters, events, and music are the property of their respective owners. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended. No profit is being made.

I own nothing, get nothing. It's a hobby – way more fun for me than knitting or something equally domestic.

**BREATHING**

_youtube - l9XktcQqqTY_

Immediately following her brief conversation with Selina, Harley Quinn slipped back into a semi-catatonic state. After an hour of watching Harley silently rock back and forth on her bed, Selina decided that she had more than enough of Blackgate Prison and crazy psycho bitches. Bruce Wayne let the Gotham PD know that he was not pressing charges against Ms. Kyle and went personally to retrieve her from Blackgate in his silver Bugatti Veyron.

They spent the first half of the drive to Selina's hotel in an uncomfortable silence, the result of multiple shocking revelations that day. Selina was sure that the image of Harley creepily rocking a bundle of blankets would haunt her for years. Occasionally they glanced in each other's direction, only to return their gaze to the road ahead. Bruce eventually broke the silence.

"Selina…"

Selina sighed. "She's not yours, Bruce. I got pregnant a few months after we stopped "seeing " each other so to speak. If she was your child, I would have told you. I knew you take care of any child that was yours."

Bruce inhaled and exhaled deeply, then slowly nodded his head. "Of course. I'm sorry."

She tilted her head and looked sideways at his profile. "I'm not…well, the selfish part of me would have loved to keep her but I couldn't inflict my lifestyle on a kid. So it wasn't what I wanted, but it was what was best for her. She is a normal, happy kid. She'll have a better life than I did."

They said nothing more for the remainder of their drive. Selina's earlier playful mood was completely gone, now haunted by memories both old and new. Though it wasn't spoken aloud, both were well aware that at some point Bruce would need to verify the child's parentage for himself.

They stopped in front the hotel she had moved into several weeks ago, sitting quietly for a moment before either of them moved. Finally, Bruce turned to her.

"Thank you for your help, Selina."

"The party was fun but I would prefer not to have that image of Harley in my head forever." Then she shrugged and flashed him a sly grin. "All for the greater good, right?"

He raised his eyebrows skeptically at her, then smirked, "Uh-huh." After looking at her a moment, his expression became more serious. "Selina," he continued as he pulled a white envelope out of his leather jacket, "I want you to have this." He handed it to her.

She took it from him and looked inside. It was stuffed full with green bills. Selina's brow furrowed as she looked at the visage of Benjamin Franklin staring up at her. "Bruce, I can't take this from you…" she began.

"Stop. Think of it as payment for services rendered. I couldn't have gotten through that night without your help." She looked up at him and he grinned broadly at her. "Besides, I don't want to have to put you into Blackgate again – for real. Take it. It should more than cover what Two-Face took from you in Arkham City. Start over."

She smiled back at him and leaned it to give him a soft kiss. "You really are one of the good guys," she said as she gripped the envelope tightly in her right hand.

He chuckled softly and shook his head, before taking her left hand and kissing the back of it. When he release it, she tucked the envelop inside her dress and opened the door.

"Selina." He continued when she paused to look back at him, half out of the car and one foot touching the pavement. "If in the future you again feel the need to relieve someone of their valuables, please do so elsewhere."

"Ah, there now there's the ass I know and love," she said with a grin. She stepped out of the car, but ducked her head back in before shutting the door. "Bruce, see a doctor – you really do look like hell." With that, she stepped back and slammed the door of the car behind her. He watched her walk up the steps without looking back.

* * *

Several hours later, Batman was standing inside Arkham City. He stood staring at the burned out Steel Mill.

_Now you know how it feels._

It was what Harley Quinn had said that night. It was the very last thing she had said to him. The sadistic look – the delight she seemed to feel when they had believed Robin had been caught…that he had died in the explosion – was unmistakable. Although for her, it was also unsurprising.

Despite the fact that his identity was unknown, with Robin, a father-son relationship of sorts was often…assumed.

Robin. His partner. His protégé. His son.

Her true intent hadn't registered with him that night. Harley had held him for two days when she could have killed him immediately. That was why she had waited. She knew Robin would come and she wanted to kill him first. That was her objective from the beginning.

_Now you know how it feels._

Batman thought back to the used pregnancy tests that littered one of the rooms inside the mill the night she took him hostage. Nearly all had been negative. All but one. The one that had been there the night Arkham City was shut down. The night Joker had died.

She believed Batman had taken her family from her. Father and child. That belief had destroyed the last bit of sanity that remained in her. He knew she wouldn't stop until she got what she wanted. Robin's death, his death, and possibly her own.

He sighed. Nothing more had been learned from Harley through Selina. They were no closer to finding the two missing girls.

So, all they had to work with was the photograph. Analysis so far had only revealed that it had been taken from inside Arkham City, at the Steel Mill that Harley Quinn had blown up a few days before.

There had been very little trace evidence on the envelope. They were unable to find any DNA on the photo, envelope or postage. The post mark originated at the main Gotham City Post Office. The envelope was covered in partial prints from handling through the US Postal Service. It would take some time to narrow them down. The sheer volume of mail that was processed there would probably make it impossible to identify who had mailed it from security footage.

So, all he knew was that the girls were somewhere inside the abandoned prison. The photo had told them that much and that little. He and Tim had used what could be seen in the background to find the exact location it had been taken. It was almost at the same exact spot where Harley had been handed back over to Commissioner Gordon after blowing up the steel mill.

"Bruce? You ok?" Barbara's concerned voice came over the communicator built into his cowl, breaking into his thoughts. "You're biometric readings are –"

"I'm fine," Bruce tersely cut her off and continued his work.

He carefully surveyed the ground with his evidence scanner, looking for some trace evidence that he could use to track the movements of the girls. After several minutes, the scanner signaled that it had located a substance foreign to the immediate environment. He visually scanned the substance and ordered a chemical analysis of the components in order to identify it.

While it was being analyzed, Bruce walked over to the substance on the ground. It was just a smudge and would have been extremely difficult to find without his equipment. He pulled out another, smaller device about the size of a pack of cigarettes. Scraping the substance off of the ground, he tapped it into a glass side with a small depression in it. He pressed a several buttons on the device. The advanced lab-on-a-chip technology would break down the substance's chemical components further, potentially yielding a more detailed analysis.

"Bruce, your body temperature - " Barbara's voice broke his concentration again.

"I'm…fine," he repeated.

"But Bruce – " was all Barbara could say before he switched off his comlink.

After several minutes, the evidence scanner completed its analysis of the visual scan. A list of the elements comprising the substance appeared on the screen – water, mineral oil, sodium stearate, isopropyl lanolate, myristyl lactate, octylhydroxystearat – what he knew were all common ingredients in personal care products like makeup. He looked down the rest of the list, recognizing the chemical components of lacrimal fluid - human tears.

The second device produced a more detailed description of the chemicals inside the lacrimal fluid. There were very high concentrations of protein-based hormones prolactin, adrenocorticotropic hormone, and leucine enkephalin. High levels of these hormones in tears were a strong indication that whomever shed them had been in extreme emotional distress.

A combination of tears and face makeup. In all likelihood it had been left behind by one of the sobbing girls after they had been dressed up like Harley Quinn. It wasn't much, but it was something he could track. Bruce programmed his equipment to search for trace elements of these chemicals, either as particles in the air or on the ground. He began to move quickly, following the faint trail.

After twenty minutes, he stopped. He leaned against an abandoned car and paused to catch his breath. It was getting harder to breathe. Batman looked up at the sky and slowly inhaled and exhaled, trying to resist the urge to cough – something he'd been doing for days. Above him he could see storm clouds gathering.

He was running out of time. He pushed himself to start moving again.

A heavy downpour would wash away any evidence he could use to track the girls. As his pace grew slower from fatigue, he knew that it wasn't just the storm he was racing against. He knew his body was about to betray him. But he hoped he could find those girls before it finally did.

* * *

The biometric monitors embedded in the Batman's suit were more advanced than what was used by NASA for their space flights. Barbara Gordon was glued to her computer system, watching each number on the screen change. She felt a growing sense of apprehension. Bruce had turned off his communicator and he was growing sicker. He shouldn't even be able to walk given the severity of the readings.

Bruce's breathing was heavy and labored and his heart rate fast – too fast. What concerned her more though, was that his body temperature was steadily rising and his blood oxygen saturation was steadily dropping. Barbara felt the same sense of anxiety and helplessness that she had felt nearly three weeks ago when Bruce's system was infected with Titan. When his fever hit 102 degrees she decided it was time to call the cave.

"Tim!" Barbara yelled loudly.

"Ow! You don't have to yell, Barb. This thing is actually in my ear." Tim was still in the lab, breaking down the photograph of the girls, analyzing the paper and ink to see if it could tell them where it had been printed.

"Tim. Go to the computer. Check the biometrics from his suit."

Tim dropped what he was doing and walked out of the lab, over to the supercomputer. He hit a series of keys and various readings, graphs, and tables appeared on the largest screen in the middle of the bank of monitors.

"Shit," muttered Tim. He reached for a button on his left that activated the intercom upstairs. "Alfred, I need you in the cave."

After switching off the intercom, he asked Barbara "Did you talk to him? What did he say?"

An audible sigh was heard. "I tried, he cut the connection."

A few seconds later, Tim looked up to see Alfred hurrying down the stairs. Saying nothing, Alfred and Tim both watched the computer screen as Bruce's temperature climbed from 103 to 104 degrees and his sats dropped from 92% to 91%. Without saying a word, Alfred turned away from the computer and walked to the hermetically sealed case that currently held Tim's Robin suit.

"Alfred?"

"Master Bruce is quite mistaken if he thinks there is one square centimeter of the house – above or below ground – that I am unable to access." Alfred punched a series of numbers into the keypad. The case hissed as it opened. "Master Tim, please go retrieve your father."

* * *

The fog he was buried in lifted slowly. He could hear the soft beep…beep…of what he knew was a heart monitor. He could feel the tubes on his face and the gentle rush of air from a CPAP machine. On the tip of his index finger on his right hand, he felt the gentle pressure of pulse oximeter. The sensation on the inside his arm told him that he was also hooked up to an IV. He felt a gentle pressure on his legs and a painful pressure radiating from inside his chest. Though he could, he noted, breathe a little more easily than he had been…before.

He slowly opened his eyes. The light in the room was dimmed. The head of his bed was slightly elevated, so the first image he registered was that of Diana. She was sleeping, her head resting gently on his right thigh. Her face was turned toward him and he instantly registered her stressed, pained expression. Her right arm was thrown across his legs and the fingers of her right hand were intertwined in his left. Her left arm snaked up his torso with her palm resting gently on his chest, next to his heart.

With his thumb, he pushed the pulse oximeter off of the tip of his finger. He winced at the pull of the needle as he lifted his right arm and brushed a lock of Diana's hair back from her face. At his touch, her eyes fluttered open.

Their blue eyes locked. "Bruce?"

He responded by gently running his right hand up her arm to where her hand lay on his chest. Squeezing her hand, he gave her a questioning look.

She sat up slowly, pulling her right hand from his left. He stilled her attempt to withdraw her left. Lowering her eyes to their hands resting on his chest, she replied to his silent question. "I needed to feel you breathing…and your heart beating."

Diana tried again to withdraw her hand. This time he let her. He studied her profile when she sat back in her chair and looked away from him. Bruce could see she was attempting to close off the emotion – the concern, relief, and much more – in her expression. She was struggling with it and failing miserably.

He finally spoke. "What's wrong?" It was difficult to speak, his throat was raw.

Her head snapped around and her eyes met his once again. This time she didn't try to hide her shock as she reacted to his question.

"_What's wrong?_ Bruce, you almost _died," _Diana hissed, blue fire shooting from her eyes.

He frowned. That truly surprised him. He'd almost died dozens of times. But from bullets, knives, exploding satellites and aircraft. Not from a chest cold.

"What happened?" he asked, his voice dry and rough. She reached for a tray next to the bed, poured him a glass of water and handed it to him.

"You have pneumonia. When Tim brought you here from the cave –"

"Tim?"

"Yes. He went into Arkham City and pulled you out. He found you unconscious."

"He was in uniform?"

Diana nodded. "Of course."

He nodded back slowly, realizing that Alfred had very easily gotten around his security locks.

"You were burning up. You had a fever of over 40 degrees centigrade and…" she trailed off before she suddenly stood, turned away from him and walked several feet away from his bed. He watched the gentle rise and fall of her shoulders as she took several deep breaths.

"Diana?" he said softly.

She didn't turn to face him when she continued, "When we finally got you back here, behind closed doors and could take off the cowl and the uniform…your skin was …blue. I'd never seen anything like it." Knowing that she was again trying to reign in her emotions, Bruce watched as she took another series of deep breaths. He waited. After a few moments, she finally turned to him.

Her expression was now calm. Though, even in the dim lighting, he could see her eyes were bright with tears she would not allow to fall.

"They had to put you on a ventilator for awhile before the CPAP," she said, her expression remained calm but her voice was heavy with emotion. "They flooded your system with fluids, antibiotics, and antipyretics. Cold compresses until your fever finally broke."

As she spoke, the familiar feeling of guilt now bubbling to the surface quickly become fused with even more familiar anger. At himself.

"How long have I been in here?" the tone of his voice was no longer soft. It was Batman's voice. He watched as Diana's eyes narrowed suspiciously at his question and his tone.

"Three days."

"The girls?"

She hesitated a moment before answering, "Still missing – but Barbara and the boys are still working on it."

As he reached down to pull the tubes out of his arm, Bruce's eyes moved to the IV bags hanging to his right, noting the names of the medications flowing into his bloodstream. He then pulled the tubing from his face that was providing him extra oxygen. He pushed himself into a sitting position. He breathed in deeply to fight the sudden wave of dizziness.

"Just what do you think you are doing?"

"Leaving."

Her jaw dropped for a split second in surprise before she set it and looked at him with an angry glare. "You're not. Your immune system is still compromised."

"I need to change," he replied and nodded toward the door.

She crossed her arms in front of her, refusing his request for privacy. "You are not well enough to leave," was her terse response.

His own expression impassive, he stood and walked toward the wall locker that was standard to all the rooms in the med bay and punched his override code into the digital lock. It opened, revealing his suit inside, just as he expected. He pulled off his blue hospital gown. From the corner of his eye, he could see Diana glaring as she watched him pull out his suit, not bothering to turn from his nudity. She watched him dress in silence.

He finished with his armor and walked to the medicine cabinet, quickly locating the pill form of the same antibiotic he had been given intravenously. He put the bottle into his belt.

Cape and cowl still in hand, he walked to her and stopped.

"Thank you, Diana. I have to go." He leaned forward and kissed her lightly. She did not respond to his gesture and continued to stare angrily at him.

"You could really thank me by getting your ass back in bed," she growled.

"Diana..." he began.

"Save it Bruce. I completely understand your desire to kill yourself," she stated sarcastically.

Bruce just turned and pulled on the cowl as he walked out the door. After a few moments, she followed. He was wary as he walked down the hallway toward the transporter room. He felt miserable but he didn't let it show at all in his stride. Diana could easily subdue him and drag him back to bed. He knew though, she wouldn't do so in front of their colleagues after they reached the transporter room. He held in his sigh of relief when he finally reached his destination. Conversation between the small group of heroes ceased as he entered the room.

They all watched silently as he walked straight to the pad and entered the restricted access code to the cave. He turned around and found himself looking right into Diana's eyes again. She was standing just off of the edge of the transporter pad. Wally had appeared behind her and had rested a sympathetic hand on her shoulder.

Just before the flash of light took him away, it registered. Her expression had changed. She didn't look angry. She looked determined. A slight shiver ran down his back.

The feeling of uneasiness at Diana's determined expression had faded seconds after he returned to the cave. It was completely empty, the only sound was the occasional flutter of wings from the occupants high above. He pushed back the cowl as he walked over and sank into his chair. He quickly pulled up the logs entered by Tim, Dick, and Barbara over the last few days.

They had gone back into Arkham City and had attempted to continue tracking the chemical signature left behind after that photo of the girls had been taken. When the skies opened up, the downpour put an end to that activity. The scene had been contaminated and there was nothing left to track.

From the physical properties of the paper and ink, Tim had discovered the photograph had been printed at one of the large department stores in town. Surveillance from the store had caught him on video. His hooded coat obscured his face from the camera. He was just under six feet tall with a muscular build – or so it appeared with the coat he was wearing. He wore gloves while at the printer, no prints were left behind.

All signs indicated that this particular criminal possessed some well developed skills. Hours of footage before and after the photo was printed did not show the man coming or going from the store. At some point between the main entrance and the photo processing department he had changed his clothes or had used a different entrance and exit entirely. Surveillance from emergency exits and secondary exits also found nothing. They kept hitting dead ends.

With an absence of further physical evidence to analyze, Nightwing and Robin had gone back to basics and began a systematic search of the former prison. Gotham SWAT was also still sweeping through, flushing out any inmates still in hiding. Five square miles was a lot to cover. Knowing that whomever had the children would probably be moving from place to place to avoid detection, they were focusing their search in areas where SWAT teams had already cleared or were unlikely to search soon. Unlike SWAT, Nightwing and Robin were using stealth in their search, in order to prevent their target from either moving on to avoid capture or killing the girls outright before he was caught.

He glanced at the clock. He'd been reading through the logs for about twenty minutes. It was almost 11:00 P.M. They were out there right now searching. Bruce had just decided to go back into Arkham City to meet them when he heard the clock open at the top of the stairs. Alfred descended, carrying a tray.

Without speaking a word and his expression stoic, Alfred sat the tray down next to Bruce on the desk. It held a bowl of what appeared to be chicken soup, bread, and juice. He looked back up at Alfred and caught the subtle look of disappointment on his face.

"Since you are determined to meet your death sooner rather than later, you at least should have a last meal," he said acerbically.

Bruce didn't respond. Arguing with Alfred was futile. Alfred remained silent and it was clear the he expected Bruce to eat what he had brought him.

He decided to indulge Alfred and eat. It was the very least he could do after what he had no doubt put the man through over the last few days…weeks…years. Without a word, Bruce pulled the bottle of antibiotics from his belt and washed two down with a swig of juice. He quickly consumed the soup, bread, and juice as Alfred looked on.

Just as he finished the last of the juice, he began to feel strange. His limbs felt heavy. His thoughts began to cloud. Bruce looked up at the man standing next to him, a man who stood watching him, completely unfazed by his growing disorientation. As he lost consciousness, it occurred to him that he'd just consumed more than food. Crafty old bastard.

* * *

_A thick fog enveloped him. He tried to push it away. He tried to move through it. But it held him fast within its powerful grip._

_He was still struggling to release himself when a vague sense of awareness told him that he was no longer alone. _

_Again he tried to focus. He tried to force his eyes open, even if just a little. When he did, he could see almost nothing. The room was blanketed in blackness. It was still night. _

_Through the darkness, an even darker figure emerged. It had only shape and form. No color. No shadow. He felt it move toward him. He felt it next to him. _

_A sharp pain, then heat, radiated through his arm. He felt himself being lifted as he began to fade into oblivion once again._

* * *

**E/N:** From here on out boys and girls, things start getting a lot more intense. My something really big and really hot looms on the horizon, so let's see those reviews!


	7. Take Me Away

******Chapter 7…**

**A/N:** First off, I'd like to apologize for the longer-than-usual delay in my update. I wish I could say that it won't happen again, but it probably will. Mostly, the day job has resulted in my barely being coherent in verbal interactions by the end of the day, let alone capable of putting complete thoughts into print. It could last awhile, unfortunately.

I'll also admit to becoming somewhat distracted (ok, incredibly distracted) by a trilogy of books currently on the NY Times Bestseller list that are about another young, gorgeous, emotionally closed-off billionaire who had a traumatic childhood and spends his nights inflicting pain on others – albeit for a much less noble purpose. I just had to see what the big deal was. I'll keep my review of the books to myself – but again, it most certainly has been a distraction. And educational. ;-)

Anyway, to address the question of several reviewers – I will most definitely be finishing this although it will be a little longer and take a little longer than the others I've done. Aside from attempting a one-shot or two, I probably won't be starting anything new until I'm done with it.

As always, many thanks to Daisy Jane for beta services rendered and in this particular piece, for her very special brand of lemon-flavored enhancements – you'll see. :-) This chapter necessarily diverts a bit in tone but will serve as a contrast for what's to come. It's also a really long chapter but I had a certain point I wanted to get to with this one. Oh, btw, as a reminder - it's rated M. Very M. You are warned.

Disclaimer: Once again, I own none of the characters or music referenced herein. I am making no money from this, so no need to sue. All I really have is piles of student loan debt – and I'd be more than happy to share that with others.

**Take Me Away**

_youtube - DkX0ZaPzTnY_

It was warm. He was warm. Almost too warm. He smelled the salt of the ocean. He could hear the waves crashing somewhere close by.

Bruce slowly opened his eyes. Everything around him was white. Very white. Pristine.

He sat up and slowly looked around. He had awakened to find himself alone and in a room constructed entirely of white stone, marble, and wood. Stone columns sat at each of the room's four corners. The walls looked to be made of wood – incredibly pale, almost white wood. Three of the four walls had ornate marble handles attached to a series of panels so that the entire wall could be opened. The fourth wall appeared solid, with a double doors and two more ornate marble handles. The walls of the room were draped in yards of white, gauzy fabric.

The bed he was lying on was huge – bigger than the one he slept in at the manor. The abnormally large bed had four marble posts at each corner and supports across the top connecting them to each other. The entire bed was swathed in the same white gauze fabric that was draped around the room, providing a transparent canopy. He was buried in soft white bedding that looked to be handmade.

He pushed aside the fabric hanging from the bed and stood up – much too quickly. Immediately he became lightheaded and had to sit back down. As he did, he was gripped with a sudden attack of coughing. As it subsided, he bent forward with his hands on his knees and tried to regulate his breathing. As soon as he regained his composure, he stood again, more slowly this time.

Quickly realizing that he was only wearing a pair of thin white boxer briefs, his eyes darted around the room, resting on a clothes chest not far from the bed. Inside, he found a few more pieces of clothing that he recognized as his own – a couple of loose fitting pairs of pants, shirts and underwear. He quickly pulled on a pair of gray cotton pants.

His face twisted into an angry scowl when he pulled open a second drawer. The two white chitons within immediately implicated the person responsible for bringing him here. Wherever here was. Bruce closed the drawer and tried unsuccessfully to calm himself by taking several slow breaths as deeply as he could with still-lingering symptoms of pneumonia. He shook his head in disgust. No doubt he would deal with her soon enough.

The room was sparsely furnished. The few pieces of furniture were all made from the same white wood and marble. A bowl of water, another empty bowl, a towel, and a small white bag sat on a table next to the bed. He cautiously looked inside the bag and discovered only some basic toiletries. A table and two chairs stood several feet away from a white stone fire pit that filtered smoke out through a small chimney in the roof. A cabinet sat next to the pit. It had storage underneath and white bowls of fruit and bread on top of it, which indicated its use for cooking. A large chair that resembled a chaise lounge sat at the other end of the room, piled with thick white cushions and pillows.

He moved forward to inspect the contents of the cooking area more closely. Besides the food, the cabinet contained various dishes, cups, and rustic-looking pots and pans. A tray full of cooking utensils contained a large knife with an ornately carved wooden handle.

Outside, he heard a soft thud and several footsteps. He recognized the sound immediately, but nevertheless he picked up the knife and turned, falling into a defensive stance. Cautious or paranoid, to him it was all the same and it kept him alive.

The white wooden door swung open. "Oh, you're awake." Diana breezed by him, looking comfortable and carefree in a short white chiton and leather belt with her lasso attached. She deposited a basket full of small, corked bottles on the table before turning to him.

"Good morning, Bruce," she said with a soft smile and a pleasant tone of voice. He stood in shocked silence, his eyes following her as she breezed by, acting very much like she was saying good morning to some random hero in the Watchtower commissary. With her back to him, he couldn't see her eyes. If he could, they would have belied her calm demeanor.

"Are you hungry? Can I get you something to eat?" Diana walked to the fire, quickly and expertly lighting it with a flint. She placed a pot of water on a metal grate over the fire. Turning toward Bruce, she sat down and began sifting through the contents of the basket on the table. As she inspected the label on each bottle, she sat them up in a row. Then she opened up an empty teabag and began to fill it with various powders and dried leaves from each of bottles, one by one.

Bruce's shocked silence quickly turned darker as he watched Diana finish filling one teabag and begin filling a second. After a few moments of having his eyes on her, she looked up and smiled again, finally meeting his gaze. It took him an extra moment to suppress and push past that immediate feeling of peace he nearly always experienced when their eyes met.

He narrowed his eyes and glared at her. "You drugged me," he accused.

Her smile faded as she shrugged and replied matter-of-factly, "Actually, Alfred drugged you. I kidnapped you." She looked back down at her work and picked up a third bag. "It's been awhile since you've eaten, Bruce. I'll cook some fish for us a little later but there's fruit and bread if you're hungry now. As soon as the water is hot, I'll make you some tea."

He continued to stare at her. "Where are we, Diana?" he said angrily.

She ignored his glare. "We're on an island."

"How did we get here?"

"Teleporter."

"I've had a lot of women in my life do crazy things to get my attention but kidnapping me to an island is a new one, Princess," he stated with a sardonic tone.

Diana just give him a withering glance and continued filling the tea bags.

"_And why are we here?"_ he whispered softly, ominously. He didn't like her calmness...as if she had every right to control his life. Her swift change in expression proved that the dangerous tone of his voice affected her in much the same way it did his prey in Gotham.

She recovered quickly and lifted her eyes to stare up at him. "So you can recover from your illness," she responded defiantly.

Bruce continued to glare at her, his expression both incredulous and livid. Still in that soft, quietly menacing tone he replied, "I am going back to Gotham. Now."

Diana looked back down at her work and softly responded, "No, Bruce. Not until you're well."

"Diana, as much as I would love to spend some quality time with you, I have work to do," he stated. The sarcastic tone that returned to his voice hardly masked his barely contained rage.

She again ignored his tone. "And you have exceptionally well-trained protégés that are quite capable of continuing your work during your absence," Diana replied as she picked up yet another empty teabag and began to fill it. "It's called delegating, Bruce."

The tight reign Bruce had been keeping on his anger finally broke free in a flash of pure fury. "What the hell do you think you're doing, Diana?" he yelled. "Have you lost your fucking mind?!"

Diana lifted her eyes to his again. He glowered down at her. She wore the same determined expression that she had earlier at the Watchtower. "I did what needed to be done," she replied quietly. "Hypocrite. I did what you would do yourself, if circumstances were reversed."

Scowling at the stubborn look clear on her face, he turned and stalked out the door.

Bruce was furious. Diana had crossed a very dangerous line. He had no communicator, no PDA to call for the Batwing or to the cave for assistance…if he were to get any. His family, or at least Alfred, had been complicit in his _abduction._ There would be hell to pay.

He stormed down the stone steps in front of what from the outside appeared to be a beachside hut made of marble and stone. A walkway of wooden planks led from the house to the edge of the beach. When he reached the shoreline, he looked up and down the coast. In both directions he could see nothing but white sand. The island was small and remarkably beautiful but that did nothing at the moment to soothe his anger.

Bruce closed his eyes and listened. He heard nothing but the crash of the waves. No sounds indicating civilization whatsoever. Not even a seagull. He had no doubt that they were completely alone on this island. Which he was sure was the point to bringing him here. Diana knew him to well to give him any opportunity of escaping.

He opened his eyes and looked out across the wide expanse of ocean. Some distance away, he could see an outline of another land mass jutting up from the horizon.

From behind him he heard the sound of her footsteps coming down the wooden planks toward the beach. He continued to stare out across the ocean, ignoring Diana as she approached and stopped beside him.

"Bruce, I have no doubt that at full strength, you could swim that far. I don't suggest that you try it though. If the sharks don't get you, you risk an even worse fate if you actually make it across. At the very least you would be bound, gagged, and sent back over here in a boat."

_Themyscira._ "What is this place?" he growled back.

"We use this place as a getaway, of sorts."

"To get away from paradise?" he scoffed with a sideways glance.

She ignored his derisive tone. "Sometimes one needs a little solitude…"

"Having my free will stolen from me is not something I take lightly, Diana." His voice lowered to a warning whisper, "There will be consequences."

Diana sighed and shook her head. "Of course there will be. I didn't expect you to take my actions lightly. But I can't sit back and let you kill yourself because of your blind stubborn stupidity." She paused to reign in her emotions before continuing. "Risking your life to save someone else's is one thing – it is very much another to kill yourself simply by being stubborn and selfish. If you get another infection right now it will probably kill you. Quickly. Bringing you here was my best option for keeping you alive."

He turned to her, eyes blazing. "Selfish? I'm being selfish?" he barked.

Diana faced him and took a step forward, raising her chin defiantly. "Yes!" she yelled back. "Selfish. If you really gave a damn about the people who care about you, you'd take better care of yourself!" She stopped and took a long, deep breath. "What would we do, Bruce?" Her voice dropeed to a rough, emotional whisper, "If something happened to you…"

Bruce's anger dissipated slightly as he looked at her. Her eyes reflected an emotion he'd rarely seen from Wonder Woman – fear. He closed his eyes and turned back toward the ocean, shaking his head. He wasn't yet ready to let go of his anger. He shouldn't be here.

"So the Amazon princess gets to decide how I run my life. I am not one of your royal underlings. You had no right!" he growled through clenched teeth.

Diana's eyes narrowed at him but her voice remained calm. "Bruce, you were as close to death as you have ever been. Closer, I was told, than you were inside that Hades forsaken prison, infected with the Titan toxin. You will not survive another infection in your current condition." Diana paused and took a deep breath. "It would probably kill you. You can't just keep working."

"THAT'S MY CHOICE – NOT YOURS!"

"It's done. You're here. Deal with it."

"God damn it, Diana! You abducted me from my bed and deposited me in the middle of the fucking ocean!"

With another sigh, Diana explained tersely, "This was the only way to get you well before you killed yourself. You would stay on the Watchtower and Alfred couldn't keep drugging you. Without your equipment, you can't leave here until you are better. Themyscirian medicine should get your immune system back to normal in a couple of days instead of a few weeks." She held a cup out a cup of tea emanating a foul smell. "Drink the tea. I added a large spoonful of Manuka honey to make it more palatable. Epione, the Amazon healer, created it for this very purpose. It will stimulate your body to generate white blood cells much more quickly."

Bruce glanced down at the cup but didn't make a move to take it. "How would an island of immortal women with no modern medical expertise develop something like that? Or have cause to create it at all?" he said caustically.

"My sisters are not necessarily immune to all illness and injury. They have, on many occasions, needed such medical intervention. They are immortal but not invulnerable. Do not forget that it was one of my sisters that nearly wiped out the planet's entire male population with a virus she isolated and developed. You don't think all her knowledge came from forbidden books? Epione instructed Aresia in biochemistry. One tends to develop an advanced level of expertise studying the same subject area for thousands of years." Her irritation dissipating slightly, she offered Bruce a wry smile and raised the cup higher, gesturing for him to take it. "Drink. The sooner you get healthy again, the sooner you can leave."

At the mention of Aresia, Bruce stilled as a realization dawned. Men were forbidden on Themyscira. Yet, here he was, alone with their princess on an island that they possessed. With his anger once again surging, he turned back toward Diana. He nodded his head toward the sea. "They know I'm here, don't they?" he asked. He glared at her, his jaw clenched. "How were you able to get your mother's consent?"

Diana met his gaze, then looked away. "The law forbidding men doesn't apply to this island," she said but there was something evasive in her expression.

The question clearly made her uncomfortable. Bruce's heart began to pound hard in his chest, his anxiety growing. "She still doesn't like the idea of you bringing me here, right?" Bruce grimaced as her expression became even more evasive. "What did it cost Diana? What did you have to give for them to let you bring me here?"

"Nothing more than a promise to spend a more time on Themyscira." She smiled softly. It didn't reach her eyes. If this was their condition, Diana had clearly accepted it willingly, but he could tell that she was leaving something out. There was more to this.

"That's all? How much time, Diana?" His eyes narrowed as he glared at her. He continued without waiting for her response. "You shouldn't be making any bargains for my benefit. I didn't want this. What if you are gone and the League needs you?" he growled. _What if I do? _he thought but refused to say.

She turned away from his glare and looked back out across the water, shrugging nonchalantly. "It's already done. It's fine, Bruce. If there is a global crisis, I will be given leave. Anything else the League can handle without me."

Bruce was unconvinced and his anger still surged; however, his energy was waning. He scowled at her. "What do I need to do to prove I'm ready to leave, then?"

Turning back, Diana leveled her gaze at him. "Take me down. Just once. Then you can leave."

Her words hung in the air between them as they stared into each other's eyes.

After several moments, Bruce silently took the cup from her, turned away, and walked back toward the hut. The emotion in their interaction, the battle of wills – in his already weakened state, had left him exhausted. He felt the fatigue beginning to set in and sought to escape from Diana's careful observation before his body betrayed him again. As he climbed the steps to the hut, his strength suddenly left him completely. Halfway up the stairway he stumbled, as his knees gave way.

In a split second Diana was at his side and gently placed her hand on his on his arm as he righted himself. He tensed, his expression impassive as he turned away from her.

"Don't touch me," he hissed.

Diana drew her hand away as if she'd been burned. Bruce walked inside the hut and quietly pulled the door closed behind him.

* * *

He awakened several hours later feeling much stronger. And hungry. He quickly ate some of the fruit and bread along with some cheese he found wrapped in a cloth in the cupboard. The fat and protein helped the satiate him as he realized he hadn't felt this hungry in days. He washed it down with another cup of the tea and the antibiotics he'd found in the toiletry bag.

He was alone. When he'd finished eating, he paced the room and his thoughts inevitably were consumed by Diana. The intensity and variety of emotion she inspired never failed to take him by surprise. Years had not diminished them and at that moment they were as strong, varied, and maddening as ever. To his dismay and confusion, the abundant frustration and anger he felt at that moment seemed to only exaggerate his physical and emotional need for her – making it all that more important for him to keep her at arm's length. This was not an easily accomplished task on a normal day, let alone trapped alone with her on an island paradise. The situation played into too many fantasies and dreams that he had had of her. It was an impossible situation that only served to make him more furious. He shook his head to clear his mind. The kaleidoscope of emotions had quickly become too much to process. His eyes cast around the room looking for something else – anything else – to focus on.

The shutters on the walls were all still closed, so he opened them and allowed the ocean breeze to wash through the room. He moved the chaise lounge closer to the window and sat, watching the waves roll off of the ocean and crash onto the shore. The serenity was soothing to his aching psyche and he let his mind drift. But before long he fought off the relaxing effects of his environment. He did not need to feel a sense contentment and allowed the rage to consume him again. She had interfered with his mission and two little girls were suffering because of her. He needed to do something. Bruce was unused to being idle, mentally or physically. He rose with fury he didn't want to quell.

He left the hut and walked back out toward the beach. In the sand he discovered footprints – presumably Diana's – leading into a wooded area behind the hut and toward the interior of the island. Curious, he followed a path leading through the trees. Soon, he emerged into a clearing. As he reached its edge he found himself looking at a pool of water with steam gently rolling from it. It was a natural warm spring fed with fresh water from several small waterfalls around its edge. His breath caught when he realized that In the center of the pool was Diana. She stood with her back to him, waist deep in crystal clear water that reflected the light as if she were bathing in diamonds.

Once again, despite his anger and irritation or possibly more so because if it, his heart began to pound hard in his chest. He held his breath when she tilted her head to the side, as if she had heard some sound. After a moment, she moved to the far edge and slowly climbed out of the water. Bruce watched the beads of water flow down her smooth, bare skin, reflecting back the sunlight as they made their long journey downward across the small of her back, over the curve of her backside and down her endless legs. He was hypnotized. On their own volition, his feet carried him forward toward her. A moth to a flame. She picked up a white robe and slipped it on. It hung loosely below her shoulders as she turned to him.

They stood, transfixed, staring at each other. Neither spoke a word. Her eyes watched his face intently as his eyes left hers and he explored the length of her. She began to breathe harder but stood frozen, clasping the front of her robe together with one hand. The tension was palpable. For in the moment, time stood still.

The moment was fleeting.

Diana reached out to rest one hand on his chest and breathlessly whispered, "Bruce?"

Bruce stiffened. With just that one word – just his name – reality intruded again. He was immediately taken back to the cave when they'd last been this close and she had breathlessly uttered his name after pushing him away. She had come to offer comfort that night – help him to heal. It was the night the twin girls went missing. They were missing still. And he was here on this island paradise while two girls who had watched their father's brutal murder, now suffered through God knows what at the hands of a psychopath. He had no right to be here and it was all _her_ fault. These thoughts were processed in an instant and his anger returned.

The trance now broken, Bruce roughly pushed himself away from Diana. He turned and walked deeper into the woods.

* * *

The sun was setting when he returned to the hut. After he left Diana, he had circled the perimeter of the island. The circumference was approximately two miles. It had only been a day, but he could feel his strength returning. When he reached the hut, he was winded but not on the verge of collapse.

As he expected, there were absolutely no other inhabitants on the island.

As soon as he stepped inside, he found that the air practically dripped with the most mouthwatering of aromas. He was hungry again. Hungrier than he'd been in weeks. The smells immediately drew him toward the rudimentary kitchen area. Swordfish and eggplant sat warming over the fire. A few roasted potatoes sat along the edge. Place settings had been prepared at the ready. In the middle of the table sat a bowl filled with chunks of tomatoes, feta, cucumber, and olives. Everything was coated in a dressing of olive oil. Next to the salad was a basket of flat bread. In front of one place setting sat ceramic cup with a fresh teabag resting on the bottom and a pot of honey sitting next to it. Bruce sighed, then grabbed the pot off of the fire and poured it into the cup.

He sat down at the table and squeezed the water out of the teabag and added a large spoonful of the honey, stirring it a few times. Finally he glanced over at the chaise lounge that was still sitting next to the open window. Diana was curled up there, facing the sunset. Her knees were drawn up to her chest as she hugged them to her with her arms. She stared out into the sunset, making no acknowledgment of Bruce's presence. He sat watching her as he drank the tea.

After the sun slipped behind the ocean horizon, she rose to her feet. His eyes followed her every move. She didn't speak or make eye contact when she passed by him to go to the fire to check the food. He continued watching her as she pulled an oil lamp from the kitchen storage cabinet and sat it on the sideboard. Soon, the room was bathed in a dim gold light.

The tension hung in the air as Diana proceeded to fill both of their plates with fish and vegetables. She sat down across from him and lifted her gaze to his as she began to eat. She stared back at him impassively as he glared at her.

They ate in silence. When she finished her meal, Diana sat back in her chair and crossed her arms. Now, she glared back at him. Her patience had finally left her.

"I've had enough of you glaring at me, Bruce. It never has intimidated me and it doesn't now. I'd rather you didn't look at me at all." She picked up their plates and deposited them into a basin of water. Her back to him now, she began to wash their dishes.

"This is wrong. I'm needed in Gotham." Standing, he growled at her, "You are preventing me from looking for those girls. I'm their best chance of being found alive."

Diana whipped around to face him. "Which is it Bruce? If your life is worth so little that you'd risk dying of some random infection, how is it that you also believe that you are the only one to handle anything? There are others out there looking. You trained them. Why can't you trust them? Why can't you trust anyone?"

Responding to her vehemence, he decided to take a different tact. If he pushed her, maybe she would become disgusted enough send him home. "I trusted you. Now I don't even know you. I never would have expected that you'd be so callous with the lives of two young children. You too will have blood on your hands if they've died while I've been stuck here with you." He repressed a wince. Aloud, the words sounded worse than he'd expected.

At his attack, the initial look of horror on Diana face was quickly replaced by anger. She reached out and slapped him. Very little strength was behind it or he would now have a broken neck. As it was, he staggered from the blow.

His eyes followed her movements as she pushed by him and walked to the open wall. She leaned against the stone pillar with her back to him, arms crossed, and stared out at the ocean.

As he rubbed his cheek, his iron-clad self-control was crumbling under the frustration of facing another night being trapped here. Another night not patrolling Gotham. He shook his head again he was bombarded with conflicting thoughts of her as he had earlier in the day. As he had every day since they'd met. Diana is only one he would have wanted but also the last person he would have chosen to be trapped with on a deserted island. Like always, he needed to put some distance between them. Her proximity always made him aware of his desire for her. The passion of his anger only served to fuel his passion for her. It was maddening. He needed to get off this island. Fine, then. He would do it her way. It was time to take her down.

He strode over and grabbed her arm in his large hand. Pulling roughly, he turned her toward him. She put up no resistance.

He stilled, shocked, as he looked at her tear streaked face. She took him completely by surprise. Diana didn't cry. At least not in front of anyone. Not in front of him. The last time – the only time – he could remember her doing so was when she and the world had thought Superman to be dead.

He never saw her cry when her mother had banished her from Themyscira. It had deeply wounded her, but nevertheless, she remained calm – sad, but calm in the presence of her teammates. As much as he knew she had been hurt by her mother's actions, he knew that right now he was hurting her even more.

He had done this. Even worse, he'd been doing it to her for years. With her tears, his anger washed away. What fell in behind it was guilt and a feeling of desperation from an overwhelming need to comfort her.

"Princess…" he whispered. He ached to take her into his arms.

Her eyes darted away from his as she correctly read the change of emotion reflected in them. "No, Bruce. Don't. I'm so tired." She let out a slow, choked sigh. "Long ago I accepted the fact that your life means more to me than it does to you. And that won't change. No matter how many times you push me away. It's why we're here. But I can't go there again."

He released her arm and cupped her face between his hands, turning her face toward his. Gently, he wiped away the tears on her cheeks with his thumbs.

"Don't cry." His voice was now thick with emotion.

She blinked several times as she gazed up at him, her expression wary. "Please, stop this," was her whispered plea.

The request itself was somewhat ambiguous, but as much as he'd like to deny it, he knew exactly what she was asking of him. She _should_ be asking him to stop playing with her. To leave her alone. He knew that she wasn't though. She was asking him to stop fighting her. Stop fighting _it_. Whatever _it_ was that was between them. He wanted to give in, but still he held back, uncertain.

He looked down at her, searching her blue eyes for answers. That familiar tension was building between them. It hung thick in the air. Slowly, he watched the hopefulness return that had been missing in her eyes since Metropolis. Mixed with it though, was something else. _Longing? Fear? _The intensity of her gaze stoked the fire that always burned within him when she was near. He struggled against it, but his resolve to resist was rapidly melting away. Diana's eyes widened with apprehension in the wake of his increasingly heated stare.

Bruce fisted both hands in her hair and gently pulled her head back, tilting her face up toward him. He closed his eyes briefly while the remnants of his resistance struggled to survive. When his blue eyes flew open, they now burned with desire and a renewed purpose – determination etched with desire. Her sharp intake of air was audible.

"Oh," she breathed, knowing what was to come.

His mouth crashed into hers for a fierce, ravaging kiss. After a moment's hesitation she began to respond, her intensity now matching his. Every repressed emotion they'd had for each other over the years was poured into the kiss. Overriding them all was passionate desperation.

Gently he withdrew his hands from her hair. They skimmed down her sides, as one hand found her breast and the other rested on her hip. His grip tightened her against him, the evidence of his arousal firm against her navel. Instinctively, she wrapped her arms around his neck.

Slowly, he pulled away from her now kiss-swollen lips and focused his attention just below her ear, his mouth blazing a trail of fire down the slope of her neck. His hand slid up from her breast and he slipped the fabric of the chiton over her shoulder to uncover every inch he could before he then retraced the trail with more fiery kisses. Diana moaned softly before a whispered question came, her voice laced with trepidation. "Bruce, what is this?"

"I want to stop fighting." Bruce murmured against her ear. "Being near you is driving me crazy even though I'm still angry with you. But the truth is that there is no one else I would rather be with. There never will be." _How could there ever be? _He pulled back and his eyes burned into hers. "I realize it must be hard for you to trust this, but I need you and I want you. Let me show you. Here. Now."

He still hadn't completely let go of his fury about her interference, but he knew why she'd done it. He knew why she'd risked his wrath and his rejection. She had brought him to this place, humbling herself in front of her mother, the Queen, in order to get permission to do this for him. However, now having made the decision to finally allow himself to touch her, he wasn't willing to let go – even for a moment.

Leaning down, Bruce nipped and kissed along her collarbone as he massaged her breasts. Under the fabric, her nipples stiffened as he roughly rubbed his thumbs across them eliciting a breathy moan from her. Slowly, he slid his hands down her sides, bending slightly to caress the length of her thighs. His finger retraced their path again, pulling the skirt of her chiton up as he retraced his path. He pulled his mouth from hers long enough to ease the white fabric over her head and toss it aside.

With an ever increasing intensity he kissed her again, his hand again threading through her hair to hold her lips to his. He snaked his arm around her waist and with his hand on her now bare backside, he lifted and turned her. Slowly, with his lips unrelenting on hers, he backed her up toward the massive bed.

Opening his eyes, he pulled back from her slightly. Her eyes flew open at the break in contact. Taking his hand in hers, Diana moved to lie on the bed, watching Bruce as his eyes raked over her form before he followed with a predatory gleam in his eyes. She watched intently as Bruce quickly removed his own clothes, his eyes continuing to burn with an unrelenting and escalating physical need. As he brought his eyes up to hers once again, he realized that she was gazing transfixed on his arousal. It occurred to him then that this was likely the first time she would have laid eyes on the fully aroused male form.

He climbed onto the bed, sliding one hand between her thighs and parted her legs. As he positioned himself between her legs with his hands resting on either side of her, she looked up at him hungrily. He leaned down to kiss her more gently but with no less promise. She reached up and threaded her fingers through his hair and pulled him closer, deepening their kiss and demonstrating to him that her fervor matched his.

Bruce pulled his mouth from hers, kissing and nipping down her neck and across collarbone. Diana arched her back and moaned as he drew her nipple into his mouth, teasing one, then the other with an expert assault of his lips and tongue. His attack was unrelenting. Diana's breathing grew harsher as the tension began to build. She began to moan softly, lost in a fog of entirely new sensations. He slid his hand down her stomach toward her moist folds.

"Princess," he whispered and her eyes flew open. He let his finger gently stroke over her clitoris and watched her expression filled with ecstasy as her back arched and she climaxed.

He kissed her and then again stared into her passion glazed eyes. They engaged in an silent exchange that included a request and consent granted.

With the acknowledgement that she was still with him, he lowered himself and gently pushed inside her. Her eyes closed at the sensation. He waited, allowing her to adjust to the feel of him. She bit her lower lip as she wrapped her legs around his thighs and flexed her hips, then gasped at the sensation. When she rolled her hips tentatively, he was urged into action as he helped her establish a slow, steady rhythm. He picked up the pace as she began to writhe beneath him, pushing forward and picking up speed until he felt her muscles tensing around him.

As the pressure reached its limit, she squeezed her eyes tightly shut at the wildly more powerful pleasure that her previous climax had prepared to expect. She struggled against the almost painful pleasure.

"Yes, Princess," he whispered in her ear causing to open her eyes and lock into his fierce blue ones. "Let it happen," he groaned as his thrusts became uncontrolled and wild. His words pushed her over the edge and seconds later she let go, shuddering as waves of pleasure flooded through her. The sight, the sound, and the feel of her climax overwhelmed his senses and he soon followed her over the edge. He growled as pleasure coursed completely throughout his body. And for a moment nothing else mattered.

As their breathing calmed, Bruce braced himself on his elbows but made no move to separate them. He gazed down at her as he gently kissed her face. When her eyes finally fluttered open, he smiled softly at her.

"Does that count as taking you down?" he asked breathlessly.

She returned his smile. "I'm not sure – maybe we should make it best of three?"

E/N: Want more (lemons)? Tell me what you think and review please!


	8. In Your Skin

_**Chapter 8**_

**A/N: **My thank you's to everyone who reviewed. I think 10 for a chapter is a good day - your feedback exceeded my expectations...although, now my expectations have changed so keep it up!

A special thank you to DaisyJane of course, for her awesome beta services.

Disclaimer: All recognizable characters, events, and music are the property of their respective owners. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended. No profit is being made.

**In Your Skin**

_y_outube - _rozv8KrQ1uM_

Diana had been awake since long before dawn. She had been lying quietly beside Bruce as he slept, studying his perfectly chiseled features that could very well have been created by the Gods themselves. Since they came to the island little more than a day ago, much of her time had been spent watching him sleep. Sleep his body had so badly needed to heal. At this moment though, things were different - he had never looked so much at peace. It made her heart swell to see it, so rarely did his face wear an expression that even approached something close to what might be called contentment.

After a while, Diana slipped quietly out of the bed so not to disturb his peaceful slumber. She pulled on a robe and grabbed a towel, a fresh chiton, and some soap and left the hut, making her way to the warm spring for a bath.

When she reached the spring, she bathed in quiet contemplation, soaping herself as her hands glided over her body. Her skin flushed and her body tingled as she recalled the details and sensations of her passionate night with Bruce. She had no frame of reference, but she couldn't imagine a more blissful experience.

Remaining lost in her thoughts, Diana washed and rinsed her hair before slowly climbing out of the pool. She tied the robe loosely around her waist and turned back toward the path back to the hut, only to run headfirst into a strong wall of muscle before having taken a single step. Two strong hands gripped her shoulders, gently pushing her back. She was no longer alone.

Diana looked up in surprise, her blue eyes locking with his. Bruce didn't say a word. He just gave a barely perceptible shake of his head and reached down and grasped the end of her sash, pulling it gently and allowing her robe to fall open. Diana's eyes widened and then closed as Bruce skimmed the backs of his hands up her body and across her nipples before resting again on her shoulders. Gently, he pushed the robe away and it fluttered to the ground. A rush of warmth flowed into her core.

He threaded his hand through her wet hair and pulled her closer, pressing her lips to his. The heat of his other hand kneaded her backside as he pressed her closer, his arousal hard against her abdomen. Despite her near invulnerability to temperature, it felt as if the heat from Bruce's touch could burn right through her.

Abruptly he pulled away, his eyes directing her back into the clear, warm pool of water at their feet. She complied immediately and lowered herself into the water, aware of his eyes following her as she went. She turned and stared up at him as he removed his clothes. He didn't immediately come to her, but stood gazing at her from above while her eyes raked over him. She blushed when her eyes finally met his again, feeling inexplicably self-conscious given how long she'd known this man and what she had let him do to her the night before.

He watched intently as she waited for him. Although his eyes reflected a predatory gleam, he hadn't made a move in her direction. As he stared down with a hooded, carnal look, she felt her face flush when her confusion was replaced with a rather surprising realization. His making her wait for him was demonstration of his virility and at least in that moment, his power over her. As she waited there under his scorching gaze, the need for him grew and an ache – a void – deep within her began to build. Bruce wanted to show her that despite the fact that she was the strongest woman on the planet, he could wield power over her. He could make her need him. Diana also knew on some level he was also taking back some of the very control she had stolen from him when she had brought him to the island against his will.

Much to her own surprise, she was only too willing to give him that control. It seemed only fair after she had virtually taken over his life.

After a few more moments of basking in his silent torture, Bruce lowered himself into the pool and pulled her to him. What began as gentle kisses to her temple, cheek, and lips quickly deepened and became increasingly frenzied. He gripped each side of her face and kissed her thoroughly, tasting her forcefully with his lips and tongue.

Slowly he backed her up and pushed her against the mossy side of the pool. Diana again felt that same sweet burning sensation as his hands moved slowly down her sides and back across the slope of her bottom. He gripped her firmly under her thighs and lifted her up, spreading her legs and pushing his hips between them. Her breath caught as she waited for what she believed was the inevitable. When it didn't immediately come she opened her eyes to again find him gazing darkly at her. Something in his intense gaze made her return it with equal strength, she was strong enough to handle him. After another moment staring into her eyes he forcefully thrust his hips forward, causing her to cry out in surprise. He pulled back and pushed into her again and again, his ferocity growing with each thrust until he expertly timed his climax with hers and they collapsed against each other.

l~^*l~^*

Bruce still hadn't spoken a word when they found themselves a resting together in the chaise lounge a short time later, staring out at the waves rolling off the ocean. They sat for a long time in silence, Diana sitting between his legs and wrapped in his gentle embrace.

A taciturn Bruce was nothing unusual, however Diana felt her anxiety grow with her awareness that even for him, this was a long time to spend in absolute silence. In this particular context, with their newfound intimacy, it made her more uneasy than it otherwise would have.

"Are you ready to go back, Bruce?" she whispered, when she was finally unable to contain herself a moment more.

"You tell me," he said quietly and evenly, his voice still emanating a trace of repressed irritation.

When she sat up and turned to look at him, Bruce took a deep breath and continued, this time responding more genially and to Diana's surprise and confusion, with a bit of humor, "What's your assessment of my energy level and stamina, Princess? Am I fit for duty?"

Diana blushed. "You're ready. Although I'm not sure I am…" Her eyes left his and drifted back out towards the ocean.

"What is it?" he asked. His forehead creased as he frowned at her, questioning her hesitation.

She tensed, reluctant to share her insecurities. She wasn't used to having them at all - at least not with anyone but Bruce. Instead of taking reassurance from this step forward in their relationship, her doubts seemed to have been magnified. This kind of male-female dynamic was new to her. She had never done this before and doing this with someone like Bruce did not make the experience any easier.

"Diana," prodded Bruce when she didn't immediately respond to his question.

Her gaze quickly returned to his. The tone of his voice had changed yet again – the anger from before seeped into the word as he spoke her name. She quickly registered the ice that had returned to his glare as he waited for her to explain her hesitation. Despite their night together, his anger at her interference in his life hadn't completely left him.

She quickly assured him that she wasn't going to further delay their return. "We can leave right away, Bruce." Diana inhaled sharply before continuing, "But what happens when we go back?" She cursed herself inwardly for the insecurity she heard in her own voice as she asked the question.

"We go back to work."

"Oh. Yes, of course." She steeled her expression to remain impassive, although she still was unclear what to expect from him when they left her world and returned to his. Struggling, she offered him a reassuring smile.

"Diana," he replied, his voice and his blue eyes softening. "This happened. I don't regret it and I'm not going to ignore it. Beyond that, we'll just have to see where it leads us." He leaned forward and kissed her gently.

She smiled at him when he pulled back from her. "Ok, Bruce. Let's go home."

* * *

The moment they were deposited on the transporter pad in the Batcave, Diana felt her self-confidence begin to return. Unfortunately, it was also accompanied by her familiar frustration with Bruce as he immediately left her behind and walked to the supercomputer to work. She followed closely and rested her hand gently on his shoulder.

"Bruce. Come to the Watchtower. You should have some blood tests done before you get back to work."

Bruce stilled, then sat back in his chair. After several seconds of what appeared to be something of an internal debate between getting back to work immediately or further delaying to clear his health, he rose and took Diana's hand in his, leading her back to the Cave's infirmary.

When they entered the room, Bruce released her hand and walked over to cabinet, pulling out a rubber band, needle, tubing, a small plastic bag, and several empty vials.

"Here," he said softly. "You do it. Take the blood to the Watchtower for J'onn to check." He gazed into her eyes warily, as if he expected her to challenge him.

Instinctively, Diana knew that he would analyze each of these moments they had together - each step they took in determining whether they could possibly work as more than teammates, more than colleagues. Deciding it was a reasonable compromise, she nodded her head and acquiesced.

"Ok," she said, with a smirk. "Give me your arm."

Diana felt his eyes watching her intently as she went through the process of drawing his blood. She was aware of the heat rising to the surface of her skin as she worked. With anyone else, contact in this context would have felt clinical, removed. With Bruce, it felt almost like foreplay - although besides taking her hand, he hadn't made a move to touch her since before they had left the island. It wasn't unwelcome, but that pull of growing desire deep in her abdomen was still very new. Her hands began to shake a little as she fastened the cotton ball and gently applied the bandage on his forearm, her task now complete.

She paused, smoothing the bandage on his arm a few beats longer than necessary before she summoned the courage to raise her eyes to his.

"Thank you, Bruce. I'll get these up to J'onn." Hastily, she placed the vials into the plastic bag.

She turned away from him and started toward the door, grasping the bag containing the vials deep purple-hued blood. Just as she touched the knob that would lead her away from him and these confused feelings of apprehension, lust, and frustration, she sensed him behind her. His arms came around, one resting flat on the surface of the door and the other quickly sliding the deadbolt lock in place. He didn't touch her, but leaned in, his breath hot on her neck as it gently moved her hair.

She closed her eyes and felt the beat of her heart accelerate as a shiver shot up her spine. Her own heavy breathing and the pounding of her heart was all that she could hear until the sound of his voice came, low, soft, and darkly sensual.

"You aren't going anywhere yet," he growled softly.

For what seemed like an eternity, she stood frozen, waiting for him to touch her. After an almost unbearable amount of time she felt the lightest flutter of the hem of her chiton. The flutter was followed by the soft touch of one solitary finger low on the back of her thigh, slowly migrating upward. He was barely touching her, but it was nonetheless a slow form of torture that left her body hot, pulsating, and aching for more.

"Diana."

It was a simple command and almost on its own volition, her body responded. Diana moved her legs further apart to widen her stance, granting him the access he wanted. He still hadn't touched her anywhere else and it was beginning to feel as if all the nerve endings in her body had come together and were migrating as one with his touch.

So focused was she on the movement of his hand across the slick flesh between her legs, she barely registered his free hand taking the bag of vials from her and tossing them onto a pile of linens that were conveniently stacked nearby. She moaned and arched against him as his fingers found their goal and began to caress the tight bundle of nerves at the apex of her thighs.

"Ahhh," she gasped.

"Shhh," he admonished. Her response was to grind her hips against him as his fingers began a relentless onslaught that quickly brought her to the brink. Abruptly, he pulled away.

Frustrated, Diana turned her head and shot him an angry glare.

He ignored her displeasure at his toying with her. "Put your hands flat against the door Diana," he ordered, his expression dark.

Diana's emotions were in complete upheaval as she complied. Lust struggled against indignation, with desire quickly pushing everything else to the recesses of her mind. Given her heritage, it was unexpected to be so excited and compliant as she anticipated being taken in such a way. But this was Bruce and she trusted him – wherever he wanted to take her.

So she waited, leaning forward, braced against the wall – pliant and willing. Wrapping one arm around her waist, Bruce tugged her back a few feet while he pushed her legs wider apart with his own. He stood between her legs and leaned across her back, one arm still wrapped around her waist. The gentle kisses he brushed across her shoulder, were in sharp contrast to the rough thrust she felt as he entered her. She bit her lip to stop wild moan that bubbled in her throat. He reached across and covered her hand with his free one, also bracing himself against the door.

Using the arm snaked around her waist to pull her onto his thrusting hips, entering her deeply, again and again, as she raced towards her climax. As they both drew closer his pace became faster and harsher. She threw her head back and cried out as her muscles quaked and her orgasm quickly uncoiled. It hit her hard and she was unprepared for the sudden rush of pleasure. Silently, Bruce's own erupted seconds later.

Bruce paused for just a few seconds, breathing heavily against the nape of her neck before he pulled away and yanked up the black cotton pants he had changed into just before teleporting back to the Cave from the island. He gently smoothed down Diana's chiton and turned her to around to face him. Searching the depths of his ice-blue eyes, she became acutely aware that the physical nature of their relationship had done very little to dissipate the physical and emotional tension between them. He could so easily and quickly sate her body - at least for a brief time until her desire for him overwhelmed once again. Her mind and her heart were another matter entirely and there was so much more she needed.

Without a word, Bruce turned from her gaze and took her by the hand. Picking up the vials of blood, he exited the room and led her back toward the transporter pad. He handed her the vials and squeezed her hand tighter as she stood on the center of the pad. Once again, they looked at each other, their eyes reflecting a myriad of unasked questions.

"Will you come back later?" he asked softly. The look in his eyes now was...eager...hopeful. Diana felt a surge of reassurance-not only at seeing him again so soon, but at the possibility that he might also be asking her to go with him on patrol. He would, no doubt, be heading out tonight to continue his work. However, her excitement was quickly diminished as he continued, "After patrol?"

She smiled shyly and nodded. Bruce gently brushed her cheek with his lips and stepped back from the transporter. In a flash of white light, she left him behind.

* * *

Bruce stared for several minutes at the spot on the transporter where Diana had last stood. There was so much to resolve with her. He meant what he had said - he didn't and wouldn't regret the step that their relationship had taken but he also believed that in time, she herself would come to regret it. It seemed that all the women he cared about eventually did. Though Diana's will was far stronger than any other woman he had ever met...

He shook his head to clear his thoughts. _Priorities._ As much as all he had wanted to do was take her upstairs to his bedroom and continue their exploration of each other, his mission couldn't wait one moment longer. Those two little girls were still out there and he had to find them. As talented and well-trained as his proteges were, he couldn't help but feel that in this case it was going to be up to him to end this.

Finally coming out of his reverie, he turned his head slightly to the side and spoke over his shoulder. "How long have you been down here?"

"I came down when the transporter first activated a short time ago. After you entered the infirmary with the Princess, it seemed the most appropriate and discrete course of action to return to the kitchen and prepare you both a late lunch. As I see that Miss Diana was not invited to stay, perhaps you would like to partake of my labors? I must say you are looking much better, Master Bruce."

Bruce bristled as he turned and walked past Alfred without responding. He struggled to maintain an impassive expression as a sudden resurgence of anger surfaced at the role his butler, mentor, and father figure had played in his recent confinement with Diana. He wasn't quite over the two of them colluding and taking away _his_ control of _his_ life.

He didn't expect that he would be allowed to escape without some confrontation, however, and Alfred did not disappoint.

"Master Bruce, you are no doubt angry about the rather extreme _yet highly successful _intervention that has apparently restored your health. You are entitled to your anger and I will leave you to it for now. But before I do, I will say that there has obviously been a significant change in your relationship with the Princess. It should come to you as no surprise that this pleases me greatly. However, that said, I expect..._no, demand_...that you will recognize the gift that you have been given. I have no doubt that you will treat her with the dignity and respect that she deserves. At all times. If you do not, an army of angry Amazons seeking to castrate you will be the least of your worries."

Bruce finally turned, his expression no longer impassive. "We will discuss this later, Alfred," he ground out, glaring. "I have work to do."

"Very well, Master Bruce." With a curt nod, Alfred sat down the tray of food next to the computer and left Bruce to his work.

Before he left Bruce stopped him. "This satchel contains some tea that helps strengthen my immune system. Could you make me a cup?"

"Most certainly, Master Bruce," he replied and headed upstairs with the bag.

Allowing the Bat to take over for the first time in days, he sat down at the computer and reviewed the log entries entered by Robin and Nightwing while he had been out of action. Since he'd gone to the island, Tim and Dick had continued their systematic search of Arkham City. Given the obvious connection to Harley Quinn, they had assumed that the killer would avoid the Steel Mill and the Industrial District, so they had started searching and clearing the buildings in the Bowry. They were still at it, going building by building. Since the Fall college semester had just ended, Tim had been searching almost 20 hours a day, with Barbara providing backup via com-link. Dick joined him each night, returning to work in Bludhaven during the day.

Gotham City SWAT was currently still searching the Amusement Mile area.

Bruce glanced at the clock. It was nearly 2 P.M. - based on his pattern of activity over the last few days, Tim was due back soon to get a meal and a few hours of sleep before Dick joined him for the night shift continuing their search of the Bowry.

It was a slow process searching such a large area and it could literally take months to completely search all of Arkham City. Even searching the each square inch of the former prison, there was no guarantee that the girls weren't being moved around to avoid detection. They might never find them this way. They needed a new approach.

Bruce pulled up a map of the entire area of Arkham City onto the largest of the monitors on the wall of the Cave. He leaned back in his chair and stared up at it pensively. Yes, a systematic search was just going to take too long. There had to be another way to locate the girls - some clue that could point them in the right direction

With a deep sigh, Bruce sat up and went to Barbara's entries of Gotham's criminal activity during the last few days. He began to sift through the petty thefts, robberies, and other random acts of nonviolent felonies. All in all, not a lot compared to Gotham's norm. It was surprising that the crime rate hadn't gone up, given that the GCPD was preoccupied with the Amber Alert and search for the girls inside and outside Arkham City. Shaking his head, he could only assume that this was due to the large number of bodies left behind as a result of Protocol 10 and the lucky few escapees still at large staying hidden. It was no doubt the calm before the storm - sooner or later things would begin to escalate again. He needed to make sure that Arkham Asylum was up and running before it did.

As Bruce ran down the crime report list, one entry took him by surprise. Several nights ago, while he was lying in the Watchtower infirmary, there had been a homicide in one of the poorer housing developments to the south of Arkham City, just outside the wall from the the Industrial District. Another parent murdered - this time a single mother of two, Carrie Vaqueros. Vaqueros was found with multiple stab wounds. Cause of death was a fatal cut to the throat and she had bled out at the scene. She was found by a CASA worker checking on the woman's two children. The victim's one-year-old son was found in the home, slightly dehydrated but otherwise okay. He had been in another room during the attack and had been left behind after the murder.

The woman's other child was missing. According to the GCPD police report, there were two predominant theories about the fate of Vaqueros' 14-year-old daughter Alyssa. The investigating detectives considered the possibility that the mother had been murdered by her daughter and was now on the run. The most popular theory, however, was that Vaqueros' paramour - the baby's father - had killed the mother and taken the girl, who was now presumed dead. But why?

Bruce accessed the main GCPD database and pulled up more detailed crime scene reports and notes from the investigating detectives. The father of the baby - Jeff Cohen - had been arrested shortly after the body was discovered. He'd been charged with the murder of Vaqueros. Not surprisingly, he professed complete innocence.

Trace amounts of DNA from the mother and the daughter had been found on his clothing. According to the medical examiner, the mother's blood had been found on the clothes he had been wearing at the time of his arrest. Cohen claimed to have gone to the house after the murder but had fled upon discovering the body, in his panic leaving his infant son behind.

A complete sweep of the Cohen and Vaqueros residences yielded a pile of DNA evidence. With rapidly growing rage, several items stood out from the multitude of test results. Cohen's DNA was found in the girl's room and on various articles of her clothing. Bruce slammed a clenched fist against the metal desk. DNA from the _wrong kind of bodily fluid _was found in the girl's bed.

In their haste to return to other more pressing issues, the GCPD detectives had assumed that the girl was also dead or on the run and they were content to leave Cohen locked in a holding cell at the new police headquarters until he was transferred to Blackgate to await trial.

Bruce jumped to his feet. It had been several days and still no sign of the girl - or her body. Mr. Cohen was desperately in need of further interrogation. Bruce started back to the changing area as a rumble in one of the tunnels announced Robin's return to the Cave.

His back to the door, Bruce had just begun to pull on his armor when Tim found him.

"Wow. You're back."

Bruce glanced briefly at his protege.

"You look a lot better, Bruce. I guess a little time in paradise with magical Amazon Princesses is good for the health. Better than an apple a day, I'd say."

Tim was treated to a full-out Batglare before Bruce sat down to pull on his boots.

"Ok, then. So, where are we going?"

"You aren't going anywhere. Eat and sleep and be ready to go back to work by 8 P.M."

"But -"

"But nothing. I'm going to the GCPD headquarters where they are holding Jeff Cohen. I have a few questions to ask him about his girlfriend's murder and his repeated rape of her fourteen year-old daughter. Something about that murder doesn't add up. Why kill her, why leave his son behind, and what happened to the girl? The weapon, the blood at the crime scene - somehow this is tied in with the abduction of these twins and I'm going to find out what Cohen knows about it."

Pulling on his cowl, Batman turned away from Robin and walked over to the Batmobile, quickly climbing in and speeding out of the Cave.

l~^*l~^*

Several hours later, Commissioner Jim Gordon stood waiting on the roof of GCPD Headquarters. He lit a cigarette and glanced around. It was oddly quiet. Too quiet.

"We had to send him to the hospital, you know." Gordon said out loud into the darkness.

Landing silently behind the man he considered a good friend, Batman responded, "He's been raping that girl for over a year. Cohen had it coming. But he didn't kill the woman and he has no idea where the girl is."

"Do you?"

"I have my suspicions."

Gordon's eyebrows raised with surprise. "Care to enlighten me?" he asked.

"She's with the twins. It was the crime scene. Too many similarities to ignore. Same murder weapon. Same bloodbath. Another missing girl."

Gordon took a long drag on his Lucky Strike. "Why would the killer take her too?"

"Maybe he's a collector. Maybe he is looking for a surrogate for the object of his obsession. Maybe he needs help taking care of the twins. Maybe there's another reason entirely, but he took her."

"Ok, what now?"

"Nightwing, Robin, and I will go back to Arkham City and continue our search. If we start scanning for traces of Alyssa Vaqueros' DNA, we may pick up her trail. She's in there somewhere. I know it."

"What should my men do?"

"Have them keep doing what they're doing - at least I know that the killer won't be in or moving to Amusement Mile anytime soon. Other than that, just make sure they stay out of my way."

Batman pulled the grapnel gun off of his belt, then paused. "Jim, one other thing. About Talia. You aren't going to find her body. She was taken to a Lazarus Pit. You can forget about recovering her body or Ra's Al Ghul's. By now, they've both been reanimated."

Jim Gordon shook his head. "That's something I will never get used to. In the old days when somebody died, they stayed dead. What about the other?"

"No trace so far. I have someone working on it. It could be a trophy for an enemy. It's possible that it was taken for scientific testing. Someone could want the blood to create a biological weapon. The government could be involved. If it is, we'll bring in The League."

"A biological weapon?" Gordon shuddered. "That's all we need. Speaking of, you are looking much better...and of course I'm alone now and talking to myself again."

l~^*l~^*

Batman, Robin, and Nightwing returned to the Cave in the wee hours of the morning, again empty handed. Robin and Nightwing had nearly completed the building by building search of the Bowry while Batman scanned the entire Bowry area for Alyssa Vaqueros' DNA. The three men parted ways after agreeing to meet in the late afternoon to resume their search, focusing this time in Park Row. Robin would get started on his own in the morning, scanning for DNA while Bruce Wayne and Dick Grayson worked at their respective day jobs.

Bruce sent his sons off to get some rest and after a shower, he made quick work completing the activity logs from the evening while drinking a cup of Diana's tea that Alfred had left in a thermos for him. Detailing his interactions with Jeff Cohen sent a fresh surge of anger through him. He deserved far more than a broken hand and dislocated shoulder. He found himself hoping that the residents at Blackgate Prison would label Cohen as a pedophile and put him through the Hell on Earth he deserved.

Glancing at the clock, Bruce noted with surprise that it was close to 4 A.M. Throughout the night he'd forced himself to focus on anything and everything but Diana. Now, he began to wonder where she might be - and if she had been to the cave earlier that evening. He should never have asked her to come back. Tonight, like all the others, he was out on patrol. Diana wasn't the kind of woman who waited patiently. He pushed back from the computer. If she had come, she was long gone. There was no point in checking the transporter logs. Right now he didn't want to know that he'd missed her, along with the opportunity to spend another night beside her...inside her.

Soon he'd think about what he and Diana could be to each other. After the girls were found...

He allowed himself the luxury to cling to that thought for now, but he also knew deep down that there would always be another case, another mission.

Frustration and agitation radiated through him as Bruce climbed the stairs in the main house. He made his way down the hallway to the master suite. Maybe he should go back down to the gym. Sleep wouldn't come easily. He was still too tense.

He roughly pushed open the door, so hard that the heavy antique wood slammed into the bedroom wall. Bruce took one step inside and froze. Sitting up in his bed was Diana, staring at him wide-eyed.

His own eyes blazing, Bruce pushed the door closed behind him. He didn't stop to analyze the wave of relief and lust that washed through him as he stalked toward the bed.

* * *

_He was inside the Steel Mill. It was dark and the smell of stale burnt wood and ash filled his nostrils. After the explosion, he could recognize very little of the former building. It was now a pile of rubble._

_He could hear...something...someone..._

_The sound was muffled, but seemed nearby. He closed his eyes and allowed his ears to guide him._

_The door he found himself in front of had surprisingly been untouched by the fiery blast. _

_From behind the door came the sounds of someone in pain..._

_He pushed the door open. It swung freely with a loud creak of the hinges. He took several steps forward. _

_No...not pain. Pleasure...louder now, the sounds of sex reached his ears. _

_In the darkness, two figures moved together on a narrow couch. The masculine grunts, the feminine shrieks of pleasure. Both appeared oblivious to his interruption._

_He took several steps back. _

_"Please...help me."_

_He froze for a split second. No...not pleasure. _

_He felt a surge of rage and rushed forward. Up close, he could make out the sickly green color of the man's hair. He grabbed a fistful and yanked the man off, throwing him across the room and into the wall._

_The pigtails and the white makeup was familiar. But no...it was not Harley Quinn lying there terrified, beaten, and used..._

_With a ROAR, he sat up. _Jolted from the nightmare, he was seized by an all too familiar sense of dazed panic and horror. Breathless, his chest still heaving, he moved to sit on the edge of the bed and rest his feet on the floor. His hands gripped the sides of his head. Out the window he could see that the darkness had yet to give way to the pink rays of the dawn.

He jumped when a smooth, cool hand touched his shoulder.

"Bruce?"

_Diana._

He turned to her slowly, unsuccessful in his attempt to hide the horror and disgust the dream had triggered. He immediately registered the concern reflected in her eyes.

"What is it?"

It almost hurt to have this unparalleled beauty look back at him with such undeserved compassion, affection, and trust. Bruce tore his eyes away and looked back toward the window.

"Get dressed," he said gruffly.

* * *

**E/N:** Again, reviews are welcomed. To say the least. An FYI - the number, intensity, and duration of lemons is directly proportional to the number of reviews received.


	9. Undone

**Chapter 9...**

**A/N: **My apologies to everyone for the extended delay. This chapter was difficult to write. It required a lot more research to be as consistent with Arkham City as possible. I also felt the need to be accurate about things like steel production.

I want to thank my prolific reviewers. Keep it coming, please. I'll pause briefly to address a concern of some of you. Regarding the raw, emotionless nature of Bruce and Diana's physical relationship…she's supposed to be new at this and Mr. Emotional Repression is going through some stuff right now (always?). But at the end of the day, she's still an Amazon. Patience, Princess. I've got plans. And for those of you who are jonesing for some more Nightwing and Robin, your cravings will be satisfied. It's Arkham City after all so there is more Robin to come and Nightwing will be called on to rescue our heroine (kind of).

As always, my sincerest thank you to DaisyJane for her beta and constant encouragement.

Disclaimer: Characters are not mine and are the property of their respective owners. I own nothing and make even less.

**UNDONE**

_youtube - wurKe-JMNTA_

Bruce stood up and moved away from her. Diana observed him carefully, noting the tension in his posture and the determined way he stalked across the room and turned on the light. She may have fallen asleep in Bruce's arms, but it was Batman that had just left their bed.

"What is it?" she repeated more forcefully, when he didn't answer her question. She continued to watch as he crossed the room, pausing at the large chiffonier to cover his nude form in boxer briefs and a t-shirt.

Finally he turned back to her and as their eyes met, Diana's heart began to pound hard in her chest. What she saw in his expression triggered a deep sense of foreboding. From the nightmare, there were lingering traces of anger and horror in his eyes. Like the rest of his body, his jaw was set with grim determination.

Diana knew this look well. She had seen it in her sisters in the aftermath of battle...when it was necessary to collect and honor the fallen. She had seen it in Bruce many times, when anyone had been lost during a mission. The look always left her feeling hollow and cold. The feeling had become a familiar one over the years.

"Get dressed," he replied. "In your armor."

Her eyebrows shot up in surprise. _In uniform? With him...in Gotham? _"Where are we going?" she whispered. The excitement she would have otherwise felt at the prospect of working alongside him Gotham was markedly absent.

"Blackgate. Bring your lasso," he answered curtly as he walked toward the bedroom door. He paused at the threshold and turned toward her. The look in his eyes softened briefly. "Diana, I need your help now." He disappeared into the dark hallway.

Diana leapt out of bed, grabbed a robe, and followed him. She didn't press for more information. He'd asked for her help and at that moment Diana didn't need to know anything more. Instinctively, she knew that he wouldn't tell her anything else until he was ready to.

In the cave, they changed into their uniforms quickly and without a word.

Within minutes they were in the Batmobile and speeding through the darkness toward Blackgate Prison. Diana gazed intently at his profile. Even in the darkness, she could see his jaw impatiently and repeatedly clench and release, eyes focused on the road ahead. His mind was clearly elsewhere - most likely at Blackgate or lost somewhere in Arkham City.

Hesitantly, Diana pushed for more information about his plan. "What is this about, Bruce?" she asked softly.

Batman glanced over at her before returning his focus to the road ahead. "Harley Quinn," he said quietly. "She may not know where the girls are, but I know she has something we can use. I've not been able to get anything from her. Maybe you can."

Diana's hand immediately went to the lariat hanging by her side. Unconsciously, she rolled the gold cord between her thumb and index finger. "I thought her mental state was...unstable."

"It is."

A feeling of apprehension began to take hold of Diana. "Bruce, depending on how her mind is functioning, the lasso may not be of any help. She can only speak the truth as she believes it to be."

"I know. Right now it's our best chance. I can't talk to her. As soon as she sees me, they'll have to sedate her. We got nothing more when I sent Selina in to try." He paused at the mention of Selina and briefly directed a sideways gaze toward Diana. "We have to try it," he continued. "We're out of time."

Diana turned away from him and gazed out the window as they raced toward Blackgate Prison. Squashing a rising surge of jealousy, she ignored his mention of Selina. Instead, she pondered Bruce's desired course of action. Using the lasso with someone who was mentally unstable was risky. Yes, it had the potential to return someone's sanity. But it also could force someone in deep denial into facing painful truths that could result in pushing them into - or deeper into - that same insanity. For the moment, she held back voicing her concern.

A short time later, Batman and Wonder Woman found themselves in a small room adjacent to the women's maximum security holding area at Blackgate. They conversed with psychiatrist Dr. Gretchen Whistler while they watched Harley Quinn in her cell via an old closed circuit television. Gretchen Whistler had supervised Harleen Quinzel when she was a psychology intern at Arkham Asylum. Now Harley Quinn was one of Dr. Whistler's patients.

Diana studied Gretchen Whistler with great interest as the psychiatrist gazed at the small television screen. The picture was in black and white and grainy, but they could see Harley sitting on the bed motionless, again cradling the rolled up sheet in her arms. Diana noted with some surprise that despite Harley's crimes, the doctor's expression reflected nothing but sadness, regret, and sympathy for her patient.

"She had so much promise," Dr. Whistler said, "but she was corrupted so easily by Joker." She inhaled and exhaled a shaky sigh. "I wish I had watched over her more closely. Perhaps her life would have been different if I had. Many lives could have been different if I had."

Diana glanced over at Batman as she reached out to rest her hand on the doctor's shoulder. She could hear and feel Whistler's guilt. It was guilt that the doctor had clearly been harboring for years.

"Joker has corrupted many, you can't blame yourself," said Diana. Her eyes were still focused on the image of Harley Quinn in front of her, but Gretchen Whistler nodded slightly as Diana pulled back. "Doctor, can you tell me...is she insane?"

"I don't think so," said Dr. Whistler as she shook her head. "Not in the legal sense at least. But I believe she's teetering on the edge of it clinically. Right now, she knows right from wrong. There have even been brief periods where she appears to be completely lucid. Homicidal, but lucid."

"It's been days," said Batman, "and she continues to cradle that...does she really believe it's real?"

Slowly Gretchen Whistler turned away from the small screen and gazed thoughtfully at the masked vigilante before her. "She isn't hallucinating and I don't believe she is truly delusional. I do believe that she's completely overwhelmed by her grief and has withdrawn into a reality that she has created and can handle emotionally."

"She's out of touch with reality?" asked Diana. "But she's not insane? I don't understand."

Gretchen turned toward Diana with a small mirthless smile. "Reality testing is often subject to temporary, mild distortion or deterioration under stressful conditions...for Harley, it's not unlike an extreme form of denial, which in itself is part of the normal grieving process." The psychiatrist paused and shook her head as if to clear it before shifting her attention back to Batman. "She walks around carrying this improvised baby but she also becomes enraged, acknowledging her situation by making accusations that you killed Joker and her baby. You've seen this. I believe she knows what she is holding isn't real."

Diana looked toward Batman with alarm. "She had a baby that...died?" The question was spoken hoarsely, as if she had trouble getting out the words.

Batman shook his head and softly uttered, "No."

"From what I can ascertain," replied Dr. Whistler attracting Diana's attention once again, "she thought she was pregnant before Joker died. Then she escaped from the hospital and discovered she was not."

"There was a positive home pregnancy test in the Manager's Office of the Steel Mill before Arkham City was shut down," Batman said, avoiding the gaze of Diana and Dr. Whistler. "Two weeks later when I went back in, I found dozens...all negative."

Whistler nodded. "She believes she miscarried when Joker died and she blames you for both events." She looked toward Batman, eyes reflecting sympathy for the masked hero. "They did all the normal labs at the hospital when she was taken into custody that dreadful night. She was never pregnant."

Diana was not yet satisfied. "But why then? Why this?" she asked and nodded toward the small television screen that now showed Harley Quinn now pacing her cell, cradling the white bundle against her chest. "It seems...extreme. Even for her."

"Harley won't accept what she's been told. I believe in order to avoid the truth - the reality of her situation. It's her coping mechanism. Right now, to fully accept and acknowledge that truth is too painful for her so most of the time she keeps herself rooted in her fantasy. It's a reality that she wanted but now can never have." Dr. Whistler closed her eyes and sighed. "Until the anger takes over and she slips out of it."

The doctor then opened her eyes and looked directly at Batman, her expression now weary. "I don't suggest you try to talk to her again. You've seen the fury consume her when she sees you. As you know, we would likely have to drug her and make questioning her impossible. I'll go make the arrangements for Wonder Woman to see her." With that, Dr. Gretchen Whistler abruptly turned and walked out of the room, pulling the door shut behind her.

As the doctor left, Diana eyes met Bruce's. The gazed at each other for several moments, both analyzing the reaction of the other. Diana could still see that steely resolve in Batman's countenance. She was worried though. By subjecting Harley to the lasso, there was the potential to further damage her mental state by forcing her out of her denial.

Of course, Bruce could read her like a book and saw her hesitation. "We need to do this, Diana," he said in a quiet, yet firm voice.

Diana sighed and turned back to the close circuit television. Dr. Whistler had entered Harley's room and was speaking to her. Harley was again sitting on the bed, but her expression remained impassive. She didn't appear to react to anything the doctor said to her.

"Bruce," Diana said softly, "if she is forced to confront the truth before she is ready, the pain could actually push her over the edge, forcing her into a deeper pathology. You know this. She may begin to experience true hallucinations and delusions rather than face the reality of who she is and what she has become."

She felt Bruce stiffen beside her. She raised her head to look at him. His determination remained steadfast, but she also sensed his growing anger. Diana experienced her own familiar feeling of irritation as he glared at her. She hardened her gaze as she stared back at him. Some things between them hadn't changed at all.

"She knows something," he growled. "This is the only way we can find out what it is. Right now. I told you, we are running out of time."

Diana bristled as she turned back toward the screen. She wasn't completely comfortable with what she was about to do but was unable to come up with another viable option. "Okay, Bruce. We'll do it your way but I hope you can live with the guilt if we further damage her psyche," she sighed.

A few minutes later, Diana was escorted to Harley Quinn's cell. She entered cautiously as the door was secured behind her. Harley hadn't moved from her earlier position. Diana glanced around the small space. A chair had been placed by the bed.

"Hello Harley," she said. "I was hoping to speak with you if that's okay. May I sit?" Without waiting for a response, Diana sat down on the chair and faced Harley, who remained perched on the side of her bed, staring impassively into space, holding her white bundle in the crook of one arm.

Slowly Diana picked up the other woman's hand, deliberately moving in a way that made her intentions clear. She watched Harley's expression closely as she gently slipped the lasso over the woman's outstretched arm. She pulled the noose snug. Harley gasped the instant the rope made contact and seared her skin. The woman stared at Wonder Woman wide-eyed, as confusion followed by recognition and realization swept across her features. After a moment she took her head in her hands, collapsed face down on the bed and began to scream. Her reaction did not appear to be from the burn of the lasso. Intuitively, Diana recognized that the physical pain paled in comparison to Harley's emotional anguish.

Diana made a move to withdraw the lasso and end Harley's torment when she heard Bruce's voice come through the open connection between their communicators.

"Wait, Diana. Calm her."

Grasping the cords of the lasso in one hand, Diana gingerly reached over and stroked the distraught woman's back. "Harley, stop screaming," she commanded.

The lasso swiftly quieted Harley's screams and her body began to wrack with sobs.

"Mista J...Mista J," she cried, "Now I'm nothin'...nothin'. Only him. I told 'em...it's only him."

"Told who?" asked Diana. She was not yet able to determine if Harley was lucid or had slipped deeper into her psychopathology.

The sobs continued as Harley babbled a response, "The guys...Mista J's gang...I told 'em...Mista J...nobody else...in control...nobody else..."

"In control of what, Harley? Tell me. The toxin? Joker's gang?"

Suddenly, Harley quieted and raised her head to stare at Diana with a blank, vacant look in her eyes. It was if the person inside had drained away, leaving an empty shell.

"Me," she whispered. "Help me."

Diana frowned as she gained some insight into what made Harley follow Joker blindly on a path to Tartarus. "You've never needed someone else to control you, Harley. You can make your own choices. You always could." Diana felt her color rise as she spoke. She herself had ceded complete control to Bruce in their recent physical encounters. She closed her eyes and forced those thoughts from her mind.

"Kill me." Diana's eyes flew open and she stared at Harley incredulously.

"What?" she gasped. "What did you just say?"

"Kill me," Harley repeated compliantly. "Please. Tell him. Kill me like Mista J and our baby."

Diana suppressed another gasp of shock and firmly gripped Harley's shoulder. With the lasso looped around her arm, there was no doubt. Harley really wanted this. "No, Harley. Batman didn't kill Joker, he didn't kill your baby and he won't kill you. You have a chance to change your life."

Harley wrenched away and shrugged off Diana's hand. Her empty expression transformed into one of malice as she glared at her. "No. Never," she hissed. "Take me back."

Diana's brow furrowed as she studied Harley's expression. "Take you where?"

"The Asylum. Where I can be closer to Mista J."

"LET'S GO DIANA." She jumped as Batman's voice suddenly boomed in her ear.

"Lie down, Harley" Diana said softly. She watched as Harley immediately complied. "Sleep peacefully." Harley immediately closed her eyes and began to breathe evenly.

Diana removed the lasso from Harley's arm and silently slipped out of the cell, securing the door behind her. With a sigh of relief, she coiled and affixed the gold cords to her hip as she walked toward the exit. She found Batman waiting for her just outside the women's cell block. He stared silently into her eyes for a long moment before turning on his heel and moving toward the main prison entrance. Diana shook her head in confusion and followed. Damn complicated man.

Within minutes they were back in the car, careening through the streets of Gotham. Once again, Diana found herself studying his profile in silence. His expression remained impassive.

Bruce spoke first, answering her unasked question. "We're going back into Arkham City. To the Sionis Steel Mill."

"Why there? I thought it was a pile of rubble."

"Most of it. When Harley blew up the Shipyard the fire spread to the mill. The coke used as the fuel and a reducing agent for manufacturing steel had been left behind - a lot of it. After they finally put out the fire, what was left of the mill was searched and sealed up."

"So you think there is something there? Why?"

"Something Harley said. She asked to be taken to back to Arkham where she could feel closest to Joker. Whoever took those fucking pictures is obsessed with Harley. It has to be one of her henchman. The shipyard is gone - but the mill isn't. That's where he'd feel closest to Harley. He's there...waiting for her."

Diana grew silent as they drove up to the edge of the bridge that once served as the entrance to the Industrial district. Bruce stopped the car and cut the engine.

Bruce too was silent for a moment before he turned toward her. "After what happened with Circe and before this cesspool was built around it, I went back to that roof almost every night I patrolled." He paused to push back the cowl but his eyes remained cast downward. She watched his actions, remaining silent, and waited for him to continue. "Diana, before yesterday, it was when and where I was the closest to having what I so desperately wanted. That's why I had to keep going back to that roof. That's why I know we have to go to the Mill now."

Surprised by his emotional confession, Diana reached over and placed her hand gently on Bruce's thigh. Slowly he lifted his head and met her gaze. His eyes reflected a vulnerability that she rarely saw and that nearly always took her breath away. He reached down and took her hand in his gloved one. She watched as he closed his eyes, a pained expression crossing his features.

Intuitively, she knew he'd slipped back into his self-doubt, all of his "reasons" from the roof and since would come flooding back into his consciousness. She had no intention of letting him go there - not now and not ever again. So she leaned forward and kissed him gently. His eyes flew open, piercing into hers as she pulled away.

She smiled at him. He glanced away and pulled the cowl back into place, abruptly ending their personal moment. "We'll go the rest of the way on foot...mostly. Try to stay out of sight."

As soon as they were out of the car, Batman scanned the area for other inhabitants and gave Diana the all-clear. He quickly shot off his grapnel and crossed the river into the Industrial District. Diana lifted into the air and followed, landing in the shadows. They began making their way on foot toward the Steel Mill, using buildings for cover. Batman constantly scanned the area to avoid any potential encounters with Arkham City stragglers still evading capture in this part of the city.

They paused briefly next to what had formerly been Falcone Warehousing and Storage and surveyed the area in front of the entrance to the Steel Mill. Through the high metal gates they caught sight of eleven men in tattered red and black uniforms. They appeared to be remnants of Harley's crew - Arkham City prisoners who had at apparently avoided capture. They were huddled together in a corner around a barrel burning what appeared to be coke from the blast furnace. Three of the men carried large automatic weapons and were oblivious to the sputtering sparks and flames jumping from the fire.

"What the fuck - are they trying to blow themselves up?" Batman muttered.

Diana glanced down as he pulled something from his belt. She watched with no little interest as he extended his arm, palming a handheld object in his gauntlet-covered hand. It was long and curved, slightly larger than his palm and it was made of blackened silver metal. It was pointed at the bottom and looked to have ridges on one side that he gripped with his fingers. His thumb poised above the button on the top of the device. He focused on the men around the fire and gently pressed down on the button twice before he returned the gadget to his belt.

"Stay here," he said to Diana. "I'll be right back."

Diana placed her hand gently on his forearm, stilling him momentarily. "Bruce, three of them have guns. Let me help you."

"No," was his only reply before he fired off his grapnel once again and left the ground, silently landing on a nearby building above the group of men. Frustrated, but respecting his ability to handle the criminals in his own city, Wonder Woman watched from the shadows as Batman leapt off the building and glided quietly down to the high wall above the men. He took a round pellet the size of a golf ball from his belt and dropped it into the barrel. A split second later, thick white foam bubbled over the side as the flames and smoke died out.

For a moment the men stared at the barrel, dumbfounded, before looking up.

"Shit," one of them said as they caught sight of the masked vigilante looming above them.

Taking advantage of their momentary shock, he jumped onto one of the armed men and knocked him out by slamming the butt of the gun into his head. Quickly he pulled apart the gun, disabling it and throwing it aside.

The other two armed men struggled with their guns, cursing while they desperately tried to get them to fire.

That left eight men armed with a variety of baseball bats, knives, and pipes.

They all came at him at once and he took them down, systematically, one- and sometimes two- at a time with a variety of kicks and punches. By the time these eight were lying unconscious on the concrete, the malfunctioning guns were now swinging wildly, used as weapons in the only way the men could manage at that moment. Bruce ducked under the swings leveled at him and gracefully lowered to the ground. He swept his leg across and into the men's, knocking both on their asses. He flipped to a standing position, kicked the guns away and bent down to slam the men's heads against each other, knocking them out cold.

It took no more than twenty seconds for Batman to incapacitate all eleven thugs.

Diana stepped out of the shadows and floated up and over the gate, landing in front of Batman with her arms crossed in front of her. "Something new?" she said, nodding toward his belt.

"Not really." It was the exact response she had received in the cave the night the girls went missing and she had come to 'test' his skills in the cave. "I don't usually need it outside of Gotham with you and Kent around to deflect bullets and melt gun barrels. Besides, I can only use it twice before it needs to recharge. Your bracelets haven't stopped working for millennia." He grinned reluctantly at her.

Diana felt her breath catch at the flood of emotion and heat that one small gesture triggered. Her cheeks flushed. Right there she decided that she definitely needed to see him smile more often. Much more often. Truth be told, after all that they'd been through she was desperate for it.

Shaking off her momentary distraction, Diana turned toward the massive building before them that once was the Sionis Steel Mill. Debris littered the yard around them - including pieces of giant, demented toy soldiers, blackened from soot. The building itself looked like it would crumble to the ground at any moment. The back of the building was a nothing but a burned out shell. The only part of the structure still standing was what stood before them, where newly manufactured steel had once been loaded onto massive trucks during a time when the industry still thrived.

Taking in the scene before her, Diana picked up their interrupted conversation. "So, he's waiting for her...Ok, I get that," she said softy and with a nonchalant shrug of her shoulders. "But you must have worked out why he took the girls and why he made them into miniature Harley's and sent her pictures."

"He's trying to win her - by giving her what she wanted. What the Joker can't give her now... the family she thinks I took from her."

"But he's not the Joker," she replied, cocking her head as she looked thoughtfully at Bruce. "She wants the Joker. She wants the Joker's baby. How could he possibly think this would work?"

Bruce shrugged, "Even if this guy wasn't an obsessed, delusional serial killer - who said love was logical? Come on, let's keep moving." He nodded toward the top of the building. "Up there," he said. Without a word or backwards glance, he fired and took off into the air, gracefully landing on the rooftop.

Diana sighed and looked back at the men lying in a heap on the cracked and crumbling asphalt. All eleven were still unconscious. If history held true, they wouldn't be sentient for many hours. They never roused very quickly after being taken out and discarded by Batman. Another quick survey of the area confirmed that she wouldn't be seen so she left the ground, floating up to where Bruce waited above.

As soon as her red boots touched down, Batman beckoned for her to follow. They crept across the building, staying hidden by the shadows. He gracefully traversed through the rubble that littered the roof. Diana followed until they reached a set of large metal double doors.

Bruce stilled as he studied the doors, his shoulders tensing even more - if that were possible. They had been sealed shut by the GCPD, the conventional plywood method abandoned. A seam weld now fused the top of the doors across the entire frame. Between the two doors was another seam weld, holding the two pieces together. Impenetrable. To most humans, at least.

Batman backed away from the doorway and turned toward Diana, inclining his head toward the door. She stared at him impassively for a moment. Their killer could not have used this door to enter the mill, but obviously Bruce felt this was to be their best access point. Diana stepped forward and slid her fingers along the hinge side of one of the doors.

"Gently Diana, the explosion made the building unstable," he said in his soft baritone. "We don't want it coming down around us."

She pulled gently and broke the hinges, cracking the top seam weld. Both doors came easily away in one piece. Diana carefully lowered the doors to the ground and followed Bruce inside. They walked down several steps into a darkened hallway. At the end, it opened into a moderately sized office.

The smell of burnt wood and chemicals immediately assaulted Diana's senses. The whole room was covered in a light layer of soot, most likely as a result of the fire that consumed much of the building when Harley blew up the Shipyard. It didn't take the world's greatest detective to conclude that someone had been here since the fire. It was obvious that the soot had been disturbed since the explosion. Bruce pulled the evidence scanner from his belt and began to look for traces of the missing girls.

As Diana took in her surroundings, she found it was barely possible to imagine that at one time this room had functioned as the nerve center for the distribution of newly manufactured steel. Like everything else in the prison-city, it was dark and ravaged. The windows were black and broken. Trash littered the floor. A bank of file cabinets lined the walls and several tables held boxes of files and scattered paperwork. On one table was some old electronic equipment - the most recognizable item was an old radio receiver. A picture of the Joker was propped on another table - covered in red lipstick kisses.

As disturbing as most of the items in the room were, the most disturbing item in the room - and the most out of place - was the solitary crib sanding in the middle of the floor. Diana drew toward the crib, unable to resist a closer look.

A number of items appeared to have been discarded into the crib as if it were a trash receptacle. There were a few items of children's clothing, presumably belonging to the missing girls. What appeared to have once been a crudely made doll now lay strewn in pieces around the inside of the crib. She reached inside and gently pushed one of the larger pieces and gasped as it rolled over to reveal the nightmarish visage of the Joker doll's disembodied head. Diana shuddered as she pulled her hand away, the blood red sinister grin disappearing from view. As disquieting as these items were, it was the pile of used pregnancy tests that gave her the most pause. There were dozens of the green tipped sticks, all reading negative and painting a very clear picture of Harley Quinn's obsessed desperation to have this eternal connection to Joker.

Diana looked up from the crib in time to see Bruce drop out of sight through an opening at the opposite end of the room.

She moved to follow, pausing briefly at the edge of the doorless opening where he had disappeared from view. The doorway overlooked a large cavernous room. Like the office, it was covered in both soot and ash. At the far end was a raised platform and behind the platform to the left, was another set of steel doors. Even in the darkness, the outline of the Batman was clearly visible to her enhanced senses. There was an unnatural way in which he stood frozen and stared at the doorway that triggered Diana's anxiety. She leapt from the doorway and floated across the room, gently touching down next to him.

At the first sound, Bruce's gaze locked with hers. The sound was muffled, but seemed nearby and came from behind the door. It was a faint moan, the sound of someone in pain. Diana immediately saw the color drain from what was visible of Bruce's face.

"It's locked," he whispered. "Gently."

Diana reached out and pushed the door open. It swung freely with a loud creak of the hinges. The door entered into a long hallway. To their left was a clearly broken elevator that led to the depths of the building. They took several steps forward when the moaning sound again reached their ears. It was still muffled, but closer this time.

No, thought Diana. Not pain. A sick feeling crept its way through her.

"Below us," Diana said softly, "at the far end of the hallway."

Bruce nodded as his eyes searched for some way to access the floor below. Seeing none, his eyes came to rest on the floor below their feet. Immediately sensing his plan, Diana dropped to her knees and made a fist. She paused for just a split second before punching through the floorboards beneath their feet as gently and quietly as possible.

Diana barely had time to pull her fist from the large hole she had created before Batman dropped through it fell out of sight into the inky blackness below. She quickly followed him through the opening.

It took mere seconds for her feet to touch down on the floor below, but in that time Batman had already made it to the far end of the hallway. There were half a dozen doors that emptied into the corridor but he went directly to one at the far end. She tore off after him as he pushed into the room and again vanished from sight.

It took only a split second for her to reach the door. It took even less time for the horror to sweep over her as she crossed over the threshold.

Batman...standing very still, holding a man's limp and lifeless body, the man's hair fisted in his left hand.

Alyssa Vaqueros...lying on a cot in front of him. Motionless. Hair was pulled into blond pigtails. White makeup on her face and black-rimmed eyes streaked with tears. Eyes...her eyes were open, yet vacant. Unseeing.

Blood...so much blood...

**E/N: **Yeah, I'm addicted to cliffhangers. I'm sorry for being lemon-lite in this chapter. It's not erotica, so plot matters. I promise to make up for it in the next chapter. Big time. The next chapter will also feature some significant developments plot-wise although it will just mark the midway point in the story. Reviews please!


	10. Near Life Experience

**Chapter 10…**

A/N: A quicker but no shorter update for everyone this time. I had one particularly productive weekend. Some key elements of the story resolved, but as I've said before – we're only about halfway through. Plot twists are just around the bend.

Thanks for those who have reviewed – I love the encouragement. I've missed a few of the regular reviewers and implore them to return to me – your feedback is always welcomed and appreciated. As always, critical feedback is welcome as long as it's constructive. For example, "Eh", is not helpful.

To DaisyJane, the yardstick to which I measure all things Wonder Woman – thank you once again for the beta and input. I know I'm on track with Diana if you get where I'm going and approve.

Disclaimer: I own nothing and make nothing. Non-original characters property of DC Comics/Warner Brothers. Thank heavens for Warner Brothers who, at least in theaters, will soon put Superman back where he belongs – with Lois. Song/lyrics by Lifehouse.

**NEAR LIFE EXPERIENCE**

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She was breathing. Her heart was beating.

Just one of the products of the genius intellect Bruce Wayne surreptitiously kept hidden, the cowl could do a great many things. It measured her body temperature. It monitored her heart rate.

She was alive. The cowl assured him of this.

Yet Alyssa Vaqueros wore an expression that was blank and empty. Her eyes seemingly focused on nothing. Bruce knew better though. The girl could see it all. She could see the bloody horror around her. She could see him. She could see his guilt.

She could see his failure - his heart, not the cowl, assured him of this.

Batman's gloved fist released the man held tight in its grasp. The man fell to the floor with an anticlimactic thud. Blood still seeped from the deep, wide gash in the man's neck. It would stop soon enough. His heart already had.

This room had once served as the Sionis Steel Mill infirmary. As with most activities in this city, steel production in Gotham had been dangerous business. The infirmary had been heavily used in its day. But in the years since the mills had closed, time had taken its toll. Medicine cabinets had been broken and pilfered decades ago by junkies desperate for their next high. Hospital beds with dirty, rotting mattresses and linens were strewn around the room. Now, Alyssa Vaqueros lay motionless on one of those very beds.

Batman dropped to the floor and leaned over the girl. His Nomex-Kevlar covered knees sunk into a pool of blood. She was warm and she was breathing but he checked her limbs and torso for injuries anyway. There was that much blood.

The movement beside him was slow, subtle, and deliberate. He was so focused on securing her safety that he over looked the danger. He missed the glint of polished stainless steel in the darkness. Fortunately, Diana didn't.

Suddenly Diana's left hand firmly gripped his shoulder and abruptly pulled him back onto his heels. He looked up in surprise to see that her right hand held the wrist of Alyssa Vaquero. A thick, four-inch blade was clenched tightly in the girl's fist and poised to sink into his flesh. Batman's gaze swiftly moved to meet the girl's. The vacant look had been replaced by malevolence. The anger in her eyes bore into his.

Diana squeezed gently and the switchblade dropped to the bed.

Bruce held the gaze of Alyssa Vaqueros as he picked up the knife. As soon as it was out of her reach, the girl's blank, vacant expression dropped back into place and she rolled slightly away from them onto her side. When Diana released the girl's arm, it fell limply. Her eyes clouded over and again were emotionless, unseeing. Her entire body became unnaturally still.

Batman leaned in closer to the girl. "Where are the twins?" he growled. He was unsurprised that he received no response or acknowledgment. Alyssa Vaqueros had that hollow look about her that was commonly seen with abuse survivors. He had learned from experience that while his ferocity in the suit was remarkably effective in getting criminals to talk, it was not helpful with individuals who had experienced this level of trauma. Like many others, she'd already been broken by her fear. She was now indifferent to it. At the moment, she was probably indifferent to any emotion at all.

Bruce looked down and turned over the knife in his hand. It had a thick blade but an ultra-sharp edge. The thinnest layers of the combat armor in his suit were strategically placed where mobility became the priority. It was unlikely, but with enough force and just the right angle, she could have sunk the knife into his neck like it was butter. Just as she had with the man now lying dead at his feet.

This man wasn't somebody he recognized. Without the garish costumes that members in Gotham wore to identify their gang affiliation, he was just another random citizen. He could have passed him on the street without a second thought. There was, however, little doubt this was their murder suspect and their kidnapper. The empty sheath at his ankle was visible. The sheath that, until moments ago, had held the murder weapon that killed Carrie Vaqueros and with which her daughter had exacted retribution.

He snapped the blade shut and tucked the knife into his belt.

As he rose to his feet, he retrieved the evidence scanner from his belt and walked toward the door. Away from the bloody mess of the room, he might be able to track the girls' DNA signature.

Just as he reached the hallway, he turned back toward Diana. "Stay with her," he said, gesturing to the still form of Alyssa Vaqueros. "They have to be close."

Diana lifted her eyes to his and nodded, then returned her attention to the girl, gently whispering words of comfort.

Bruce swiftly left the room and began to trace the girls' DNA signature. He walked up the hallway and in and out of each of the rooms that led off of it. The twins DNA was all over this part of the mill. A quick sweep of the rooms found that they had been in and around each room in along the hallway. Their DNA was everywhere, but the rooms were empty.

He paused in the middle of the hallway, his mind efficiently analyzing each potential course of action. The twins were somewhere in the mill, but the rooms off of this hallway were clear. It seemed likely that they were going to have to organize a thorough search of the building from top to bottom. There remained the remote possibility that their dead suspect had an accomplice, so the GCPD would need to be called to seal off a perimeter around the mill while he searched inside. It would take hours to search a building that could possibly crumble beneath their feet...

As if in response to his thought, the building began to shift and shake around him. The sensation felt a lot like a small earthquake. The brick and metal exterior of the building might stay in place, but the interior would not. Even done gently, Wonder Woman punching a hole in the floor easily had the potential to knock rock solid building off of its foundation.

Breathing a sigh of relief as the motion abruptly stopped, he felt the heat of Diana's gaze on him. Batman looked up to find her standing in the doorway to the infirmary. Their eyes locked as the floor once again began to shake - stronger this time.

"Has she said anything?"

Somber, Diana slowly shook her head. "No. She's in shock."

"Then take her and go."

Diana pressed her lips together and simply stared back at him without a response. She didn't need to speak a word for him to know that she wouldn't willingly leave him behind.

"This building is coming down. Get her out. Now. I need to find those girls."

Diana's brow furrowed as she scowled at him with an expression of indignant defiance. It was a look he knew very well and they didn't have the time for it.

He glared hard at her. "Take her out, Diana."

She was unaffected, as he knew she would be. "You take her," she said calmly. The white knuckles of her fists revealed her tension and rising irritation. "Let me look for the girls. I can handle this building come down on top of me."

Why couldn't this stubborn woman just wilt like everyone else when he glared at them?

"You're wasting time. Get her out."

The building quieted and Diana lowered her voice to a whisper. "No, Bruce. I was buried under a missile and came out just fine."

"And those were two of the worst minutes of my life. I don't want to relive them. Get her out of here. Now."

"Really, Bruce? Do you want to go there? Is now a good time to discuss how many times I've had to stand by and wait, wondering if you were dead or alive?"

"Fly her up the elevator shaft to the top. There's a balcony that looks over the bay."

Having had enough of the delay, he turned his attention back to his scanner. Their brief debate had already taken sixty seconds they couldn't spare. He knew Diana would get Alyssa to safety. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her disappear back into the infirmary. Satisfied, he began to study the residual DNA in the hallway, looking for some pattern. If they'd been taken out of here, he needed to find something that would indicate which way the girls had gone.

Ten seconds later a bloodcurdling scream interrupted his thoughts.

"You bitch! Get this fucking thing off of me!"

He knew Diana was whispering, but even with the cowl's enhanced sound amplification he couldn't make out any of the words. Though he didn't really need to, Alyssa quickly filled in the blanks for him.

"The end of the hall, you cow!" Alyssa Vaqueros screamed. "That's where he keeps them!" She continued screaming profanities at Wonder Woman until suddenly the screaming stopped.

Seconds later, Diana again appeared in the doorway, looping the lasso and fastening it securely to her armor. He looked at her expectantly. She frowned in response. "I'll take her out now but I'm coming right back."

He didn't doubt it.

He walked down the hallway and stood in the center of what once had been a locker room for steel workers during an era when shifts ran twenty-four hours a day. A scan had turned up nothing. Everything in the room was entirely open. And entirely empty. It had showers and urinals at one end of the long room encased in filthy, cracked ceramic tiles. Several long benches lined the walls, many of the long wooden slabs were split, broken or missing entirely.

Absent from the locker room were the lockers themselves.

Ignoring the movement of the floor under his feet, Batman quickly dug into the vast amount of knowledge he possessed and mentally sought for an explanation for this anomaly. Instead of lockers, some steel mills had installed metal baskets where workers would put their clothes and other personal belongings. These heavy metal basks were then hoisted up to the ceiling with chains. This system lifted articles out of would-be thieves' reach and made stealing much more difficult and inconvenient. More importantly, however, it allowed access to the open air - necessary for clothing that had been worn by men working long shifts next to a blast furnace.

His gaze lifted up toward the high ceiling. There were dozens of baskets hanging above, partially obscured by the darkness - at least to the naked eye. A quick scan of the ceiling revealed the outlines of the girls in two baskets near the far corner of the room. His readings indicated that the girls' breathing was shallow and their heart rates were very slow. They weren't moving at all.

Suddenly the floor buckled beneath his feet. He jumped clear just as a wide crack opened up, exposing part of the boiler room below.

As the floor shifted, then stilled, he stared into the dark abyss above him. He had to get up there. The problem was that he'd have to use the grapnel and launching his 210 pound body mass and forty pounds of equipment at the ceiling would only hasten the building's collapse.

There was just a few seconds to brainstorm possibilities before he felt the air shift slightly and caught the faint scent of jasmine.

"In the corner, Diana," he said without looking away from the ceiling. "In the baskets. Bring them down. Gently."

She nodded, directing her gaze in the direction of his. "The cavalry is here. The Commissioner is outside with the first responders."

"Let's get them out of here then," he replied softly.

Bruce watched from below as Diana floated high up into the corner of the room and brought both girls down, one at a time. He checked each girl's breathing and respiration as they were placed on the floor. They were cold, pale, and appeared to have been sedated. Without the boiler system functioning, the temperature in this part of the building was very cool. The low temperature and slowed heart rate from the drugs increased the risk of the girls developing hypothermia. He pulled two paper thin Mylar emergency blankets from his belt and quickly swaddled each of the girls in one.

Batman and Wonder Woman each picked up one of the girls and cautiously made their way back to the freight elevator, taking care not to upset the building's precarious structural stability. As they reached the entrance to the elevator shaft, they paused and looked at each other with alarm. They easily recognized the smell that emanated from below.

"Diana, take both girls. The last time the building shifted must have ruptured a gas line. Fly them out - fast. I'll be right behind you." He held up his hand as she opened her mouth to argue. His tone was deadly serious when he spoke. "The grapnel could cause a spark. I want you to take them out of here first. No arguing. Go."

This time, she didn't argue. She cradled the girls under each arm and shot straight up the elevator shaft. After she cleared the doors at the top, Bruce shot off the grapnel, hoping that it would embed itself in wood and not metal. He breathed a sigh of relief as it connected and held - no sparks and no explosion.

He felt the heat as soon as he lifted off the floor, the grapnel pulling him to safety. He glanced down. A bright orange ball of fire was racing up the shaft toward him and soon would be nipping at his feet.

Batman barely slowed as he released the grapnel from the wall and almost simultaneously swung through the elevator opening into the hallway above. In two strides, he leapt off of the metal balcony. The rising heat behind him obscured the sensation of the saltwater spray from the bay. He could see that Diana was not far ahead of him, circling the building to make her way to where the GCPD and EMS were waiting for them to deliver the girls.

Fearing that the entire building was about to explode behind him, he angled his body and pulled his cape to dive toward Diana at high speed. He pulled up at the last minute, opening the cape just as the flames set off an explosion that ruptured the side of the building they had just vacated. Burning debris that would have hit Diana and the girls pelted harmlessly against the outside of his flame repellant fabric. He coasted around the building behind them, landing just behind Diana on the asphalt in front of the building next to Commissioner Gordon. And in front of what seemed to be half of the Gotham City populous.

Jim Gordon had just enough time to arch one eyebrow in his direction and grunt, "Why is it that buildings always blow up when you jump out of them?" before they were rushed by the emergency medical service, GCPD, and the press. Lots of press.

Batman tolerated the chaos for as long as he could.

The girls had awakened mid-flight, just before the building had exploded. He now watched as they clung to Diana, sobbing and hysterical. Like nearly every little girl in the civilized world, they recognized her immediately. She was gently stroking their hair and whispering words of comfort. Diana wouldn't be able to get away easily; they didn't look like they were going to let her go any time soon.

He caught sight of Vicki Vale eagerly headed in his direction and decided that he needed to leave. Immediately. Diana was a skilled diplomat and could handle the local government and media attention on her own. It was Gotham – his city – but since the world already knew she was there, he was happy to leave her to it. Batman inconspicuously grappled to a nearby roof, unseen by the masses on the ground around him. Or so he thought.

He landed on a rooftop a short distance from what remained of the Sionis Steel Mill. He raised his hand to launch the grapnel again, only to look up into blue eyes that were the same color as the Mediterranean.

Diana arched an eyebrow at him, her expression oddly unreadable. "You were just going to leave without a word?" she asked.

He blinked several times and stared at her, not immediately knowing how to respond. Of course he was. It was what he did.

The corner of Diana's mouth lifted into a small smirk. "Relax, Bruce," she said softly. "The girls - all of them - are safe. Thanks to you. It's OK to loosen up a bit now. You won this one." She walked over the edge of the building and gazed out over the scene below.

Bruce bristled, and then moved to stand beside her. It didn't feel like a win to him. Not at all. "Diana, another body and a child forced to kill isn't the outcome I'd hoped for."

Immediately she closed her eyes and blushed, a pained look sweeping across her features. He caught the change and winced at the sharp stab of regret. He hated causing her pain, especially when she was only offering comfort. It happened far too often. Clearing his throat, he continued, "You seemed occupied with the girls. They are very taken with you."

Her eyes fluttered open and nodded slowly. "I promised them I would only be gone for a moment. I'd like to stay with them until Child Services decides what to do."

He nodded, mirroring her response. They gazed at each other silently for several moments until finally she turned to leave. He grabbed her arm just before her feet left the rooftop. She looked at him questioningly.

"Will you come back to the manor when you've finished?" he asked.

She offered a small smile and leaned close to kiss him on the cheek. "Of course," she whispered in his ear.

He watched as she floated gently back down to the twin girls, waiting quietly with EMS on the street below. They gazed at Diana with complete awe as she landed next to them. He imagined the expression on his own face at that very moment was much the same.

Just before he turned to launch himself into the air and make his way back to the car, he felt the eerie sensation that he was being watched. He'd learned from experience that the feeling shouldn't be ignored, more than once his hyper-vigilance had meant avoiding serious bodily harm or worse. Activating the cowl's scanners, he searched everything around him in his line of sight. In the bright early morning sunshine, he found nothing out of place. Something was amiss but there wasn't any way he would get to the bottom of it right now. Firing off the grapnel once again, he headed back to the Batmobile.

His senses were keen and rarely wrong. The observer was camouflaged by a stolen uniform and the flurry of activity on the ground below him. Green eyes glowed with anger as it watched the black figure depart.

As soon as he returned to the cave, Bruce went to the supercomputer to update his logs, peeling off the cape and cowl along the way. As he sank into his chair, he felt some of the tension from the last few weeks drain away. Behind the tension, exhaustion took hold. He looked up at Alfred and gratefully accepted the cup of Diana's tea he was offered. The older man's nod told Bruce that thankfully, he'd already heard about the girls' fate. He just didn't have it in him to talk about the details right now.

He meant what he'd told Diana – it wasn't an acceptable outcome. Yes, all three girls had been found alive. He knew nothing yet about what they had endured while they were being held. Only time would tell what the emotional impact would be. He did know that whatever had happened, he didn't find them in time to spare a young girl from having to take a life – one they had yet to identify. This was now his task.

Two hours later, he had completed his work and Diana had not yet returned. He made his way toward the changing area to shower. On the digital spa shower control panel, he set the water temperature to 113 degrees and the jets on the shower walls to deliver a hard, pulsating massage. He leaned forward against the marble tiled wall, resting his head on his forearm. The heat and the strength of the spray on his skin were only just not painful, but it soothed his sore muscles.

He sensed her presence before shower door opened. Diana entered, pausing only briefly to adjust the shower settings, changing the hard, hot spray to a gentle rain that cascaded from directly above. She stepped in behind him and wrapped her arms around his waist, resting her cheek between his shoulder blades. Bruce remained immobile and silent for a long while, wrapped in Diana's gentle embrace.

Eventually, the urge to be even closer to her became too strong. He turned in her arms, grabbed her wrists and pushed her back against the shower wall. Locking his gaze to hers, he lifted her arms away from her body and pressed them out to her sides against the black marble tile. Slowly, he leaned in to kiss her but before his lips touched hers, she turned her head away. He pulled back and stared at her, his expression wary.

She didn't need to explain. He knew her too well for that to be necessary.

"I don't want to talk right now." His voice was low and gravely. His eyes were dark with desire.

"Well, I do," she whispered. "Please stop hiding from me."

His eyes grew darker. He leaned forward and pressed his hard length against her. "I'm not hiding Diana. I'm right here."

Diana's eyes quickly flashed with anger. She pulled her arms from his grasp and crossed them in front of her.

"No more games, Bruce. I felt more emotion from you before I let you fuck me. And given how little emotion you typically show - that's a remarkable feat."

He stepped back, his eyes first wide with shock at her words, then quickly narrowing with his own ire. "Fuck you?" he growled.

"Raw, emotionless sex, Bruce. From what I understand, that's the modern definition."

He flinched and looked away. The mask then fell into place. It was second nature. Taking the mask off and expressing emotion is what required effort. Hiding behind it was easy.

"But I know differently, don't I Bruce? I know you."

His head snapped around and he again regarded her with surprise. And relief. He wasn't sure why this surprised him. By now, nothing she did should surprise him and yet she still managed to do so somehow. Her ability to see what was in someone's heart was uncanny, and the secret to her remarkable compassion. She understood him - she always had. She understood, but deserved better.

"That first night…that first time, I felt so much from you. It was what pulled me into your bed. I thought your walls had finally come down. Ironically though, they're stronger than ever." She paused and lowered her eyes as she continued, "I can't deny that when I just let go and let you take me, it feels amazing. But after, without the rest, it leaves me cold." Her chin lifted as her eyes again met his, "I know what lies within you, Bruce, but going on this way...it's just not enough."

She stopped talking. Her head tilted to the right as she studied him. She stared into his eyes. He closed them protectively. Batman had nothing on Wonder Woman. She could see into the depths of his soul. And that scared him.

"It doesn't matter what you call it. It's been anything but emotionless. Diana…"

She stepped toward him and leaned forward slowly. He sucked in a quick breath and opened his eyes when she gently kissed him on the side of the neck. She pulled away and smiled softly at the heated, desperate look on his face.

"Shhh. Bruce, I know this is hard for you. It's not my intent to make things harder. I just wanted you to know how it feels for me. And to let you know that maybe if you can share a little, it might start to get easier."

He inhaled and exhaled deeply, then reached for the shampoo before granting her request. "I was too late," he said without looking at her.

Diana reached forward and took the bottle from his hand. She poured a small amount into her palm and handed the bottle back to him. Gesturing for him to lower his head, she began to wash his hair.

"No, Bruce," she said. "You weren't. Alyssa could hear us coming. She'd planned to kill him from the moment he took her. We just moved up her timetable. You couldn't have prevented it."

He lifted his head, "She planned to...? How do you know that?"

Diana pushed him back a step and directed his head under the shower spray to rinse his hair.

"Like with Harley, I wasn't sure about using the lasso. But we couldn't wait. The thing was, once she started talking, she didn't stop - the lasso wasn't necessary anymore." Diana paused as Bruce turned her away from him and began to wash her hair in return. "She talked the whole way up the elevator shaft. I spoke to her more after we got the twins out. He hadn't touched her. Yet. Yesterday he dressed her up like Harley for the first time. Alyssa said something changed then. He started calling her Harley and looking at her differently. She was afraid."

Bruce was deep in thought as he threaded his fingers through her hair, working up a rich lather. Diana moaned softly as he expertly massaged her scalp.

She sighed wearily before continuing. "She's damaged, Bruce. After...the way she was with the men trying to help her today...she grabbed a pair of scissors used for bandages in the ambulance and tried to cut one of the EMS workers. I think maybe there were others before her mother's latest boyfriend. She could have been brutalized for a very long time."

They were quiet a moment while Bruce rinsed her hair. "Did Gordon tell you what he was going to do? She has a younger brother. Her mother's dead and she's killed someone. Even if she doesn't end up in juvenile detention - or prison if they decide to prosecute her as an adult - nobody will take her in. Foster care won't be an option. She'll be put into a group home. That's not much better..."

He stopped as she turned and looked at him hesitantly. "I know. That's why I contacted my mother. Later today our attorneys are flying to Gotham from the embassy in New York in order to petition for her release to the government of Themyscira. My mother has offered her asylum."

Despite his next words, Bruce relaxed at this possibility. "Like with Aresia? That didn't go so well." Then he smirked. Diana grinned at him, then reached around and gently swatted his backside. He feigned dismay, "Ow!" Although with her strength, it did sting a little.

Now finished washing and rinsing her hair, Bruce picked up a mesh sponge and moved around to scrub her back. "How are the twins?" he asked.

"They were afraid and as you know this will stick with them for a long time. But right now they are back with their mother. She's entering a drug and alcohol treatment program for mothers with young children. They'll have a place to live while she gets clean." Diana paused and turned to look over her shoulder. "What about him? Who is he? I know you know - even if Gordon doesn't yet."

Bruce nodded. "I used the video from the cowl and ran facial recognition software. It was just another one of Joker's, then Harley's henchman. There's not much more than that yet." He paused and hung up the sponge, then slipped his arms around Diana's waist and pulled her back against him.

"Diana?"

"Yes?"

"Thank you."

"You're welcome," she replied and leaned her head back against his shoulder. "Now, is that so hard?"

"Mmmm," he whispered in her ear as he began to nuzzle and kiss her neck. "Right now it is," he added. The tone of his voice and the erection pressed against her hip made his double meaning clear. Still slick with soap, he slid his hands up from her waist and began to knead her breasts. He pulled and hardened her nipples between his thumbs and index fingers. She moaned and arched her back, pushing against his hands. In response, the movement of his fingers became stronger, rougher against her sensitive skin.

"Look at me, Diana," he softly commanded.

As she turned around slowly, he took a small step back from her. He endeavored to communicate every emotion he could as he gazed into her blue eyes - eyes now clouded over with lust. He could only hope that he was showing her something of what she sought from him. Her own emotions - desire, adoration, affection and much more - were easy for him to read.

With a contented sigh, he cupped her face in his hands and kissed her. The kiss began with a gentle reverence. As she responded, its intensity built into a frenzied passion of soft lips and tangled tongues under the gentle shower of water spraying down on them.

This time was only about Diana. Bruce pulled his lips from hers and traced gentle kisses down her neck and collarbone. Grasping her full breasts tightly in each hand, he drew one hard nipple, then the other into his mouth, gently tormenting each with his teeth, lips, and tongue. Abandoning the sensitized tips, Diana moaned again as his lips left her breasts, trailing sucking kisses down the smooth planes of her navel until he knelt before her.

With her eyes locked on his, he pushed her back a just step so her back met the wall. She looked down at him, her breathing growing labored with anticipation. When Bruce reached under her knee and lifted her leg up to rest on his shoulder, she finally closed her eyes and leaned her head back against the wall.

He leaned into her and began a slow, sensual caress with his lips and tongue. She moaned loudly as her fingers threaded into his thick dark hair. Under his skillful touch, her pleasure swelled quickly until he brought her to the peak of sensation - and abruptly pulled away. He dropped whisper-soft kisses on her thighs. As soon as her body calmed just enough, he returned to his delicate ministrations.

"Bruce, please," she implored as she reached the edge again, this time convulsing as the waves of pleasure washed over her. He only intensified his assault at her cries, skillfully pushing one orgasm to roll into the next. Only when he sensed her repletion did he allow her relief.

Bruce rose slowly. He allowed her long leg to slide over his shoulder, but he captured it in the crook of his arm and wrapped his hand around her thigh. Her eyes fluttered open to meet his as he filled her. His eyes locked on hers, he began to move very slowly, with long, smooth thrusts, as she rocked her hips to meet him. The tension built at a languid pace until she exploded around him. Her pleasured cries sent him falling into bliss right behind her.

Breathless and spent, he looked down at her and kissed her gently, suddenly overcome with the feeling that she was breathing new life into him. At the same time, the darkest part of him sounded an ominous warning; a blast of trepidation went coursing through him. As she smiled affectionately, he swept the uneasiness away, not allowing that part of himself to dominate his actions.

"It's still early," he whispered. "We both need at least a few hours of sleep. Will you stay?"


	11. The Joke

**Chapter 11...**

A/N: I've an extra-long update for you – I needed to get the story to a particular point in this chapter. Thanks to the reviewers for Chapter 10, they are much appreciated and desired.

I had a few requests for a Nightwing fix. Your wish is my command. Enjoy.

A special thank you to Aztec-08 – the encouraging (awesome) PM hit exactly the right spot. This one's for you.

And as always, my heartfelt thank you to DaisyJane for her beta and her patience with my impatience.

Disclaimer: I don't own songs/lyrics/ or any characters. I do desperately wish that I owned DC – Geoff Johns would sooo be out on his ass. And there would be lots of Donna - for DJ. :)

* * *

**The Joke**

_youtube - Ua8d3gDSXyc_

Diana arched her back with a groan, reaching her fingers and toes as far she could in opposite directions. Her mind still hazy from sleep, she vaguely registered that even with her considerable height and long limbs, she could stretch as far as she could without touching the ends of the bed. Awareness gradually set in and she became conscious that she was not in her bed at the Watchtower. She was also not in the living quarters at the Themysciran Embassy in New York where she sometimes stayed. Just as the realization came that she was in Bruce's exceptionally large four-poster bed at Wayne Manor, she caught the strong, heavenly scent of hot coffee. Opening one eye, Diana spotted a delicate china coffee cup sitting on the nightstand beside the bed. It still had steam rising from it.

She slowly sat up in the middle of a twisted bundle of silk sheets. A long blue cashmere and silk robe hung from one of the posts at the foot of the bed, as if it had been left for her. Diana looked down at herself and blushed. If Alfred had left the coffee and robe, she could only hope that her naked form had been appropriately covered when he'd entered the room.

Unable to resist the aroma of Alfred Pennyworth's freshly ground gourmet coffee one moment longer, Diana scooted toward the edge of the bed and swung her feet to the floor. As she reached for the bone china cup, she noticed the red rose lying beside it. A slow smile spread across her face in appreciation of the romantic gesture. Perhaps Alfred hadn't been the one attending to her needs this morning.

Diana wrapped the robe snuggly around her, picked up the coffee and the rose, pausing briefly to enjoy its lovely perfume, and left the bedroom in search of Bruce. She made her way through the vast hallways of Wayne Manor. The smell of freshly baked bread soon led her to the gourmet kitchen on the ground floor.

"Good morning, Alfred. That smells heavenly." Diana sat down on a stool at the massive breakfast bar.

"Good afternoon, Miss Diana. I trust you are well?"

Diana blushed, "Yes. Very well."

"Very good." He looked at her with some hesitancy but also with poorly concealed glee. "It seems the fallout from our collusion wasn't entirely bad?"

"No," she whispered, flushing deeper shade of pink. "He was very angry. I believe that he still is to some degree – so perhaps we are not through with all the repercussions. But he seems to be trying to understand. And you, Alfred? How has he been with you?"

Alfred regarded her thoughtfully. "We had a few words, but very few. I too am not sure that the matter is closed, but given the same circumstances I would make the same choice." He paused and smiled at her with even more affection before continuing, "Perhaps his attention will remain focused on other matters."

Diana knew Alfred was pleased at the progression of her relationship with Bruce, but she remained quiet, unsure of what to say to the man that was, in all aspects but biology, his father. What she and Bruce had was tenuous, to say the least. Diana wasn't yet secure enough to attempt to discuss it with anyone else.

Alfred seemed to sense her discomfort and moved on from the topic. "Would like me to fix you a late lunch? A sandwich on this freshly baked bread? Or perhaps something more typical of a morning meal - waffles?"

Diana's eyes widened with surprise. "Afternoon…late lunch? What time is it Alfred?"

"Nearly three, ma'am."

Diana gasped and hopped off of the stool. "Oh no! I was to go on Monitor Duty at two!"

"I believe Master Bruce arranged for someone else to cover that shift for you, Miss Diana."

With a guilty expression, Diana sat back down, her head hung slightly. "I've already missed so many, with the three days Bruce spent in the Watchtower infirmary, then going to the island."

"Nonsense, my dear. Selfless acts for someone that has more brains than sense. I believe it to be a well-deserved break. Now, how about lunch?"

"That would be wonderful, thank you. I'm starved. Is Bruce here?"

"Working in the home office upstairs, ma'am. Bruce Wayne has been neglecting the family business of late. Your lunch will be ready when you return."

"Thank you, Alfred."

Diana made her way up the stairs on foot, holding back the urge to fly up to Bruce on the second floor at supersonic speed. Instead, she crept softly, pausing in the doorway. Bruce was talking on his cell phone, turned away from his desk and the door, leaning back in his chair and gazing out the window. She gazed at the strong jaw and long lashes in profile, idly wondering how he could possibly still have a perfectly straight nose given his nocturnal activities. His hair was an attractively messy mass of black waves, still damp from the shower. He was speaking vehemently with whoever was on the other end of the line.

"Ms. Bailey, this is exactly why I would prefer to speak directly to your boss…I know it's an unusual request, Gotham is an unusual city…I realize your company doesn't manufacture security equipment, Wayne Tech does. I want to buy the patent on your new solar energy technology but if he won't sell, then perhaps he'd be interested in a joint venture...I need it to construct a security and surveillance system that is run with solar energy panels that also sustain an extremely large greenhouse…Yes, I've already agreed that what I'm asking for is unusual...Gotham City is constructing a new mental institution for the criminally insane and I need solar energy that can power the security system. When the power source or the security system itself is tampered with at any place in the facility, it will trigger the massive destruction of the greenhouse located on the grounds. Something like that requires a lot of power and I think your new solar technology is just what I need...The criminals in Gotham are different, Ms. Bailey…Ms. Bailey, are you still with me?...Maybe not yet, but I think what you need to consider something bigger than your hyper-concentrated micro-solar panels powering a cell phone…

Bruce swiveled around in his chair toward the desk and looked up, catching sight of Diana standing in the doorway. His eyes brightened, then heated as his gaze traveled the length of her, her curves still evident even wrapped in yards of soft cashmere. Their eyes locked as Diana stepped into the room and closed the door behind her, locking it with an audible "click". Her own eyes took on a predatory gleam as she leaned against the door and silently looked back at him.

He smiled slyly at her. "Ms. Bailey, we're getting nowhere here. I'll have my secretary schedule a conference call with your boss. My assistant will overnight some of the specs on what I'm looking to build. I realize that things are very different here than what you are used to on the West Coast, so I will also ask my assistant to include background information on Gotham's unusual brand of criminal activity…I want you to fully understand why it makes necessary unusual requests like the one I've made today…Yes, thank you too, Ms. Bailey. Goodbye.

Bruce hung up the phone and placed it on the desk. He stared at her silently for a long moment before he spoke, "Finally, she awakens. Hungry, Princess?"

Diana smiled and pushed away from the door. She walked toward him, coming to stand between his chair and the desk, forcing him to move back and look up at her. She leaned forward and with her face very close to his, she whispered, "Ravenous." The kiss she then gave him was slow, leisurely, and with much promise. As he tried to pull her onto his lap she twisted away and stepped back to sit on the desk. She gazed down at him coyly. He groaned in protest.

"So, you are looking to acquire some special solar energy technology?" she asked.

Bruce looked up at her with frustration. "Yes," he sighed, "for the Arkham Asylum renovations. The sooner it's finished the better so I can move Harley off of Blackgate Island. Security will be networked to the cave's computer system. I'm also building the greenhouse for Ivy to be tied into the security system's functions. If the system is tampered with, her plants will be destroyed."

"Exactly what will that accomplish?"

"It's one of the many safeguards I'm building into the security system to prevent escapes. If Ivy knows that her plants will be destroyed, she's more likely to try to prevent anyone from tampering with the system…"

As he spoke he wheeled himself closer to Diana and placed his hands on each of her knees. Slowly, he began to massage his way up her thighs until she stopped him by placing a bare foot on the seat of his chair and pushing him back, out of arms reach. He growled in response.

She arched an eyebrow. "Uh-uh. Who's covering my shift on monitor duty?"

"Wally. Only the Founders know what's happened over the last week and I'd like to keep it that way, Diana. There would be more questions about why another one of your shifts needed to be covered if I made a Junior Leaguer take it. They don't need to know that you're here or that you hauled me off to some island to recover from pneumonia." As he spoke, Diana watched his expression harden and heard the irritation creep into his voice.

She felt a flash of guilt that was quickly replaced by indignation. It had been the right thing to do. He could have worked himself to death, literally, and would have been no use to those poor girls. "They wouldn't have questioned you."

"No, but the bitching and moaning to each other would stir up the rumor mill. They don't need to know what happened or speculate about it. It's bad enough they know Robin had to take me to the infirmary in the first place."

Bruce despised appearing weak to anyone – especially meta-humans. She knew full well that Bruce's anger about the island wasn't anywhere close to being resolved. Right now, however, wasn't the best time to discuss it, so she turned the conversation in another direction. "It's too easy for you to make Wally take it. He won't stand up to you. You should have woken me up."

She saw his eyes suddenly soften and the irritation disappear. "Not possible. You simply looked too beautiful, content, and sated to disturb," he breathed.

And with that – in an instant – his mood shifted and her own irritation evaporated. She smiled at him, almost shyly, and lifted her hand to his cheek. "Oh Bruce, I appreciate your thoughtfulness, but I think I should let Wally off the hook and get Alfred's sandwich to go."

Before she could make a move to leave, he grabbed her hand from his cheek and held it in both of his. "Wait, Diana…I know we still have more to talk about. Like I said last night, this won't be easy. You'll probably tire of my rude, self-absorbed behavior quickly, but … I want to see where this goes." He paused. "I need to deal with some Wayne Enterprises business and then check on Alyssa Vaqueros and Rose and Lily James, but after – can I take you to dinner?"

She looked at him suspiciously. "What were you thinking? Drive through in the Batmobile?"

He inched forward in his chair and took her other hand, looking at her with very serious eyes. "No, Princess. Tonight I'd like for Princess Diana of Themyscira to accompany Bruce Wayne to dinner."

Much to her dismay, his words didn't inspire the elation she would have expected. She frowned. Going out in public together wasn't something she had ever allowed herself to believe he'd want to do. Especially so soon. "Bruce, we don't have to."

It was brief, but she caught the brief flash of alarm in his eyes before a stony glare took its place. He released her hands and turned his chair, reaching for the computer mouse. The screen lit up, revealing his Wayne Enterprises email account inbox. "If you don't want to go, that's fine." His eyes focused on the screen and remained there as he opened an unread message.

The immediate shift in his mood again surprised her. She stilled his hand with hers. "Bruce," she said, and then waited several seconds until he looked up at her again before she continued, "of course I want to go. It's just that…I know it's risky and a lot has happened, very quickly. I meant it when I said I didn't want to make things more difficult for you."

"You aren't. Do you want to go or don't you?" His eyes were still cold, but she could see the hint of vulnerability that lay within them.

"I said that I did."

His eyes moved from hers back to the computer monitor. "Your shift will be over at eight, so meet me at Ansòsele at nine. I've made reservations for two." Despite the fact that he was inviting her to a romantic dinner, his tone remained detached and cool. If she hadn't known him so well, she would have believed that having dinner with her was absolutely the last thing he wanted to do. However, although Bruce hid insecurity well, over the years she'd developed the ability to pick up the signs on those rare occasions he felt it.

Diana reached across him and hit the power button on the monitor with her left hand as she slid her right up over his shoulder and to the back of his neck. In the now black screen, she could see his reflection as he closed his eyes. Moving a hand to each side of his strong jaw, she turned his face toward her. Almost protectively, he kept his eyes closed. After a moment she let go. When she released him, his eyes opened.

Her eyes never left his as she reached down and tugged at the knot in her belt, allowing the blue cashmere to fall open. His hungry gaze darkened as he reached for her.

* * *

"Headed out, old man?" It was nearly eight-thirty in the evening and Dick stood in the door to the master bedroom, having been summoned to Wayne Manor by the master of the house without explanation – as was typical of Batman directives.

"Yes. I'm meeting Diana," Bruce responded nonchalantly. "I need you to patrol with Tim. There are still dozens of Arkham City inmates running around the city and I don't want him out there alone."

"You're wearing that?"

Bruce sent a weary look toward Dick as he expertly executed a Windsor knot in his gray tie. "Exactly what is wrong with what I'm wearing? Before you answer, remember that Alfred bought nearly everything in my closet."

Dick smirked back at him. "I don't know – you just look very _Bruce Wayne_ to be meeting up with Wonder Woman."

"That's pretty much the point."

"Wait - for real? Billionaire playboy dates virgin Amazon princess?"

Bruce stiffened as he silently glared at Dick's reflection in the mirror. Comprehension crept slowly across Dick Grayson's handsome features.

His jaw dropped open. "No way! Where the fuck have I been?"

"Not here, certainly," interjected Alfred who had just swept into the room. "If you would grace us with your presence more frequently, Master Dick, you might be more up to date on current events. And mind your language."

Bruce shrugged in response to Dick's continued slack-jawed stare. "It's a recent development. Nobody but Alfred knows yet, not even Tim. Tonight though, I guess everyone finds out."

"Are you sure?" asked Dick as his mouth finally snapped shut and he ran a hand through his spiky black hair. "Is this what you want?"

"No, I'm not sure at all. But it is what I want. Besides, even if I didn't want it – and I do, very much – this is Diana we're talking about. After what's happened, it's the right thing to do." Bruce pulled on his suit jacket. "Tim's down in the cave getting ready for patrol."

On cue, they both heard the vibration of Dick's cell phone before ringtone sounded with a hard guitar beat and screeching lyrics _I've gotta make a stand, but I am just a man, I'm not superhuman, my voice will be heard today._

Bruce shook his head and rolled his eyes at the lyrics.

Dick smirked, "That would be the little brother himself." After a moment, Dick's expression clouded. "That's weird – why would he be calling my cell? Didn't you say he was in the cave?"

Without waiting for a response, Dick answered the phone. "Tim. What is it?"

"_Are you at the Manor yet? I need you to get him to the cave – now."_

"I'm here with the old man now. What happened?"

"_Double-homicide. Just get down here with Bruce."_

Tim cut the connection, leaving Dick staring at the phone with a wide-eyed expression of surprise.

Bruce scowled at him. "Well, what did he say?"

"Just that there was a double-homicide. And you needed to get to the cave. Right now."

Without further discussion, the two men rushed down to the cave. They found Tim in uniform, sans hood, sitting at the computer talking to Barbara on the secure video-link. As they approached, Tim stood and moved away from the desk.

Bruce noted right away that both Tim and Barbara seemed paler than usual. Tim radiated tension. Bruce sat down at the desk and looked at the monitor and into the webcam. "What happened, Barbara?"

Barbara hesitated, her expression showing her obvious reluctance to provide the details regarding Gotham City's latest murder victims.

"Now, Barbara," he growled, glaring at her.

"_Bruce, information is still just coming in, but couple was murdered near a theater in the Waterfront District. They'd just left the movies. It's being reported that they were robbed by a masked gunman, then shot and left to die in the street."_

The knot in his belly tightened. "Did they put up a fight?"

"_No. They offered to hand over everything they had. He shot them anyway. Each victim, two bullets to the chest."_

"Sounds more like a hit. Were there witnesses? How do you know they cooperated?"

"_There was one witness, Bruce…their eight-year-old son."_

Slowly, Bruce stood his expression impassive. With Barbara's words, he felt the burn. The knot that permanently resided deep in his gut caught fire when a case hit way too close to home. It had burned a lot over the last few weeks. Diana had temporarily put that particular fire out, lighting an entirely different one in the process. Now it was back and had become a raging inferno.

Bruce steeled himself. He had yet to put on the cowl, but the mask was firmly in place nonetheless. He walked away from Dick, Tim, and Alfred, who had joined them as Barbara relayed what she knew of the crime. They stared at his departing back as he made his way toward the changing area at the back of the cave. He heard Dick and Tim enter behind him as he began to dress.

Not bothering to pause or turn toward them as he pulled on his armor, he said, "You aren't going. I need to deal with this myself."

"Bruce, let us help," implored Tim. He was still raw from what had happened over the last few weeks.

"You will. But there will no doubt be speculation in the media comparing this crime to the murders of Thomas and Martha Wayne. We can't all descend on the crime scene and highlight any connections between the Batclan and Bruce Wayne by making this something more significant than just another double-homicide in Gotham City." He grimaced as he said the last few words. The fact was he took every homicide in his city personally – but this one Bruce Wayne would take personally as well. The more he minimized any connections between Batman and Bruce Wayne, the better – especially now that he was going to be publically involved with Wonder Woman. The thought froze him in his tracks. Diana would be waiting for him.

Having finished putting on his armor, he grabbed his cape and cowl and strode back out into the main area of the cave. Tim and Dick followed close behind. He looked up at the timestamp in the corner of the large computer monitor. It was nearly nine.

He hit a button on the keyboard. "Barbara, keep monitoring the situation. I'll be at the crime scene in 15 minutes." He turned from the computer back toward his adopted sons. "Tim start tapping our informants – see what they can come up with. But stay sharp – do not engage anyone alone that might give you problem. Dick - I want you to go to Ansòsele and get Diana. She'll be waiting for me. Bring her back to the cave. Go as Dick Grayson – not Nightwing. Join up with Robin after you get her back here. Convince her to wait for me here."

He frowned at Bruce, "Why? Just call her back to the cave on the comlink."

"No. I don't want her at the crime scene. Even if I don't tell her what's happened, she'll know there's a problem and call the Watchtower to find out what it is. The reservations were in my name, so there has already been a connection established between us. It won't be a real surprise to anyone if you show up to make my apologies. We need to avoid any video on television of Batman and Wonder Woman at a crime scene that looks like the murder of Bruce Wayne's parents. If you go there in person, you may be able to convince her to come back here instead."

Dick looked at him speculatively. "What makes you think I can talk her into coming back?"

Bruce glared at him. "Just do it. You've talked many women into many things. Tell her…" He stopped, uncomfortable with saying what he was about to say. "Tell her that I'll need her here when I get back – after." It probably sounded like a manipulation to his sons and perhaps it was. He looked up and met Alfred's concerned gaze. It was however, also true. He would need her.

"Ok, get out there."

* * *

"Excuse me, miss. This is from the gentleman at the end of the bar."

Diana looked up at the bartender, startled. Fidgeting with the strap of her Herve Leger black-banded halter dress and staring at her now empty glass of expensive French Bordeaux, she'd been deep in thought...about Bruce. The bartender slid another glass of wine in front of her and nodded his head to the side, directing her attention toward the opposite end of the bar. She smiled and expectantly turned toward her benefactor.

Her smile froze on her face and then faded the moment she saw that it was not Bruce sitting at the end of the bar. After a moment, she realized the degree of disappointment that was probably being conveyed in her expression and forced a tentative smile toward the stranger.

A broad, wide smile returned hers as the man slowly stood and began to stroll toward her. He appeared to be about thirty years old. He was an inch or two shorter than Bruce and thin, yet appeared to have a strong, wiry muscularity. Thick white-blonde hair highlighted by a prominent widow's peak framed a long, angular face that featured darkly expressive green eyes.

She assumed he didn't recognize her as Wonder Woman. He moved with an easy grace and carried himself confidently, not showing any signs of being intimidated by her, something she frequently encountered when meeting mortal men – and metas, more often than not. The self-confidence in which he carried himself was the only similarity to Bruce that she could identify in his outward appearance. Without bothering to ask if he could join her, he lowered himself onto the stool at her left and turned it in her direction.

Diana suddenly felt uncomfortable under his intense, discriminating gaze. For some reason, in this particular situation she felt very much lacking in her usual self-assurance and poise. "I'm waiting for someone-" she said abruptly.

He raised his eyebrows at her and just smirked, not saying a word.

"I – I'm sorry," she continued. Diana paused, inhaling and exhaling subtly in order to establish an aloof, casual composure. She smiled weakly. "I don't mean to be ungracious. Thank you for the drink, but I'm meeting someone for dinner."

The smirk on the man's face transformed into what could only be characterized as a mischievous smile "As I expected. I didn't think you were out trolling for men."

Diana frowned, confused. "Trolling?" she replied. She was unfamiliar with the term.

Her new companion pressed his lips together in an apparent attempt to hold back a chuckle. "You weren't trying to pick up some random man and take him home with you for the night?"

She blushed. "Oh. No, of course not."

"Of course not," he agreed. "A woman such as you would no doubt _have_ to be meeting friend or possibly some extraordinarily lucky man for dinner. Am I right?"

"You are," she nodded as her eyes darted nervously toward the large clock on the wall.

"His standing you up is my good fortune, then."

Diana experienced a flash of anger and directed a steely gaze toward the man next to her as her brow furrowed and her tenuous smile transformed into a frown.

He seemed unaffected by her ire, yet still made what was an unsuccessful attempt at looking contrite. "Please, my apologies for being so forward. It's just that you've looked at the clock at least a dozen times since I sat down at the end of the bar a few minutes ago. I assume that your dinner companion is running late?"

She didn't respond as her eyes once again darted toward the large clock on the wall. It was nearly half past nine. Bruce was thirty minutes late.

She looked back at the man next to her. Diana knew that her lack of enthusiasm with their conversation was evident in her expression. Despite this fact he offered her another wide, disarming grin, and signaled the bartender to refill his glass.

"I daresay if you were with me," he announced, "I would not be as foolish as to let you out of my sight, let alone wait unaccompanied in a restaurant lounge at the mercy of disreputable men such as myself."

Diana shook her head and resisted rolling her eyes. "Disreputable men rarely confess that they are. And I think you would find that I'm quite unlikely to be at the mercy of anyone."

"I don't doubt that, Princess."

Once again Diana froze, and then looked over at him with uncertainty and suspicion. His behavior was unusual – she would have though him far too self-assured to have known who she was. He smiled knowingly at her expression.

"I'd have to have been living in a cave for years - or been dead - not to have recognized you, Your Highness."

Blushing slightly, she regained her natural, regal poise. "Please...call me Diana."

He reached out his hand toward her, "Vincent Scherzo, but please call me Vince."

She accepted his handshake, as always taking care not to crush his fingers. His hands felt unnaturally cold and once again Diana felt unsettled in the man's presence. "Nice to meet you, Vince. It seems that you know me. What is it that you do?"

He paused with a contemplative expression before responding, as if he were choosing his words carefully. "I'm an entrepreneur of sorts and new in town. Right now, I'm looking for new ventures in Gotham City to invest in. I like to uncover a city's secret assets and reveal them, to the advantage of all." For the first time, he looked uncomfortable as he shifted in his seat. "A restaurateur, a winemaker, an inventor – I can help expose their talent and wares to the world, make them rich, and make a modest living for myself in the process."

As he spoke, Diana only half heard what he was saying as she again glanced up at the clock on the wall above the bar. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught sight of the flat panel television that now projected a live breaking news report. Her eyes widened and locked on the screen. A blonde female reporter was broadcasting from the scene of another multiple homicide in Gotham City. In the background, there was significant police activity. Diana's breath caught in her throat when she caught a glimpse of a black cape fluttering in the shadows. She felt the blood drain from her face as the reporter moved to the side, allowing the cameraman to get a better view of the scene. Two bodies, now covered in sheets, lay in an alley. An unfamiliar wave of nausea swept through her as realization dawned on why the scene seemed so familiar. It looked eerily similar to a set of crime scene photos she'd seen of another murder from many years ago.

_Oh, Bruce._

Tears welled up in her eyes as she watched. Her paralyzed focus on the news report was broken by a man's strong grip on her forearm. She looked to her right, into the intense blue eyes of Dick Grayson, who was regarding her with no little concern. Her eyes widened even more as he leaned toward her.

"Breathe, Diana," he whispered in her ear. "We need to be discrete here."

Diana quickly reigned in her emotions and abruptly pulled away from him, shaking off his hand. She glared at the newcomer. "Hello, Dick," she said, forcing the sound of irritation into her voice. "I wasn't expecting _you._ Why are you here? Taking care of your father's loose ends?"

Dick blinked with surprise at her bitter tone, and then narrowed, as he quickly comprehended her scheme. So much for discreet. He glanced over Diana's shoulder at the man beside her, who now watched them both very intently. Sensing Diana's show was partly for this guy's benefit, Dick shrugged nonchalantly. "Sorry, Princess. It happens. But usually he just blows off his dates when something…comes up." The implication of something "better" coming up hung in the air, although everyone there knew the possibility of encountering _something_ better than Wonder Woman was a virtual impossibility unless you were a complete fool – although this was exactly the image Bruce had cultivated over many years. "It's different this time, though." he continued. "Bruce wanted me to come meet you and give you his apologies."

"Diana?" Vincent Scherzo's voice came from behind her, "Is this guy bothering you? You want me to get rid of him?"

Dick glared at the man behind her. "Back off dude, you have no idea what you'd be in for. Save yourself the trip to the hospital. Besides, I'm talking to Wonder Woman. If she wanted to kick my ass, she could. Very easily."

Dick turned back toward Diana, his expression softening as he backtracked. "But seriously, Bruce asked if you would come back to Wayne Manor to meet him." His eyes silently implored her to grant his request. "Diana, he needs to see you there." He paused for a moment, his eyes boring into hers as he nodded toward the television on the wall and spoke a little louder for the benefit of the other patrons in the bar. "Reporters are already calling the house. They are already debating the similarities with his parents' murders. He didn't want your first dinner together to be overrun by the media, so he stayed there and asked me to come for you."

Diana sighed and looked back toward the TV news report. She knew perfectly well that Bruce sending Dick to retrieve her from the restaurant was a clear indication that he wanted to keep her well away of the crime scene. Every part of her wanted to ignore Bruce's request and go to him anyway. He knew her well enough to know that if Dick hadn't come here, she would have definitely gone straight there. This way, word would get out that Bruce was at Wayne Manor, avoiding the press, when in actuality he was at the crime scene.

She turned back and nodded slowly at Dick. "I understand. I will give Bruce the opportunity to explain himself and make his apologies in person."

Diana stood and turned toward the man still seated at the bar next to her. She caught the man's brief look of frustration before it was replaced with a pleasant, appreciative air.

Vincent rose to his feet and offered his hand once again. "It was a pleasure, Princess Diana," he said smoothly. "I regret that we didn't have more time to get acquainted." He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a card. "If you would perhaps be interested in sharing another drink…or dinner, please call me."

Diana ignored the very Batman-like glare Dick directed toward Vincent Scherzo as she accepted his card and tucked into the pocket of her handbag. "I'm afraid I won't be able to accept your invitation, Mr. Scherzo, but thank you, nonetheless," she replied politely, having regained her ambassodorial poise.

"Please, again, call me Vince."

"Good evening, Vince," Diana replied as she accepted Dick's arm. They walked out the front door and stopped. A new MTT Turbine Superbike sat by the curb. Dick released her and walked over to it, picking up the helmet. He looked back at her expectantly.

Diana glanced down at the hemline of her short, black dress. It was either do this or fly. Apparently tonight she had to minimize exposure in more than one sense of the word. Wonder Woman flying around Gotham in a short coctail dress would attract significant attention. She couldn't exactly call the Watchtower and ask for a teleport to Bruce Wayne's living room. The cave had a special security protocol, so she couldn't ask for transport there unless a Founder was on duty. With a sigh, she hiked up her skirt a little more and climbed onto the back of Dick's motorcycle.

* * *

He'd arrived a full five minutes before an overzealous Vicki Vale began to broadcast live from the crime scene. On all outward appearances, it was business as usual for Batman. He was stoic, efficient, and businesslike as he walked the GCPD through processing the crime scene. The hero had ice in his veins – or so it seemed to the casual observer.

Inside, it was a different case entirely. Bruce's gut was still burning and his blood was now boiling. Visually, the similarities of this crime to his parents' murders were just too obvious to be a coincidence – even if he believed in coincidences and he did not. He had no idea what this punk's game was, but he'd make him regret it.

To the fullest extent possible.

It took very little time to process the crime scene once he arrived. There wasn't much to analyze. The murders were quick and efficient. Each victim, two shots in the chest at point-blank range. It quickly became apparent that robbery wasn't the motive. The couple had in fact offered what they'd had on them, but the wallet, purse, and jewelry lie strewn around the alley, untouched since they'd fallen. No, it was clear that the only objective in this crime was murder. He muttered to Gordon that he'd go by the morgue later to find out the results of the autopsy and pull the ballistics report when it was done. He didn't expect to find anything from either. If this was a hit, the murder weapon would likely be untraceable from the bullets retrieved from the body. The murderer hadn't touched them, so there was unlikely to be trace evidence. He scanned the area thoroughly with his equipment and turned up nothing.

His best option was to get a description of the killer from the boy and have Barbara start hacking the security footage around the city, looking for their perp. Then get back to the cave and start analyzing victimology. Why these two people? Why Hugo and Tanya Mueller?

The boy was sitting on the back of an ambulance, facing away from the crime scene and the bodies of his parents, now lying cold and lifeless under white sheets. Batman stalked over slowly, forcing down the emotion that kept trying to drive itself to the surface. He came to stand in front of the boy, who looked up at him with wide-brown eyes. His face was tear-streaked and white as chalk. One of the boy's hands shook as he lifted a bottle of water to his lips. His other hand was hidden in the folds of the blue blanket that had been wrapped around him. After a moment under Batman's scrutiny, the boy lowered his head, a shock of dark brown hair covering one eye.

"What's your name?" asked Batman in an uncharacteristically soft voice.

"Milo" the boy whispered very softly. If it weren't for the enhanced hearing on the cowl, he wouldn't have been able to hear the response.

"Did you see him?"

"Yes."

"What did he look like?"

The boy shrugged. "He was tall and thin. He wore a ski mask. I could only see his eyes. But it was dark. I think they were green."

"Did he say anything?"

"Yes."

"Can you tell me what he said?"

The child nodded. "He told me to give you a message. Just you. _Just Batman, _he said. _Don't tell anyone else_, he said."

Milo pulled a hand from under the swath of the blanket's blue fabric. He held his small fist out, palm down. Batman held out an open hand. The boy rested his fist gently on Batman's gloved palm and opened his fingers slightly before pulling his hand away and quickly tucking it back under the blanket.

Batman stared at what lie in his hand. Nestled in the ridges of the black leather glove, were two perfect white pearls.

E/N: So, ladies and gentleman, if you like – please review. If you don't – constructive criticism is welcomed. I should mention that I did pass up the opportunity to provide some office-chair lemon. I recall saying at the end of an earlier chapter that lemony goodness is directly proportional to the number of reviews. Things have dropped off a bit – but if you want the lemon added to the above – you know how to let me know! :) The next chapter is super-emotional and another super-charged lemon is planned - if you want it - you know how to let me know that too! Thanks for reading...


	12. Anchor

**Chapter 12…**

A/N: A bit shorter update for everyone this time. Less action – or more, depending on your definition ;-) This one is an interlude of sorts. Thank you for the reviews for the last chapter. I'm glad you liked it.

As always, thank you to my beta, DaisyJane.

Disclaimer: Characters are property of their respective owners. No profit is being made - I don't own or control anything. Sigh…

**ANCHOR**

_youtube - xcFCJKoZ_f8_

For Diana, the minutes ticked by agonizingly slowly. Robin and Nightwing were out shaking down possible informants as she waited in the cave, listening to the communications between them and Barbara Gordon and sipping the tea Alfred had given her. She hadn't had any contact from Batman. The last she'd heard, he was still in the Waterfront District investigating the crime scene.

Some time ago, she had asked Barbara for an update. In response, Diana had received the digital crime scene photos recently deposited on the Gotham City PD mainframe. On the large monitor in the cave, Barbara had pulled up for her a similar perspective of both crime scenes. A closer look had done nothing to ease Diana's concern. Even on the computer, the visual image was striking in its similarity to the crime it replicated; for Bruce, actually being there had to be nothing short of horrifying. Aside from the precision and deliberation of the bullet wounds, this crime scene matched the Wayne's to the last detail. It was a different alley, but it looked almost identical to the one that now was behind the walls of Arkham City. She had no idea if this person was deliberately sending Bruce Wayne some sort of message or was just using the copycat crime as a way of getting attention. She desperately hoped it was the latter.

Of course Bruce hadn't checked in with anyone since he provided a vague description of the killer to Barbara hours ago. From the GCPD radio transmissions, Barbara was able to tell her that the coroner had taken the bodies to the morgue and Milo Mueller to Gotham Children's Hospital. Apparently the boy had shut down after a brief conversation with Batman and was now completely uncommunicative. He was taken to Children's to be treated for shock and seen by a child psychologist. His maternal grandparents had been contacted and were taking the first flight the next day from Central City to Gotham. Fortunately for the boy, his parents had blessed him with a large extended family that included grandparents, aunts and uncles, and cousins. He'd have a large support system going forward. As wonderful as Alfred had always been, he was the closest to family – the only family – that Bruce had. Diana wondered if things would have been different for Bruce he'd had the support of a large family. She suspected Batman would have still come to be, but maybe he could have been less emotionally tortured.

Her musings were interrupted when Diana's enhanced hearing picked up the low rumble of the Batmobile several miles away. As he drew closer, she began to pace, barefoot, her black Manolo Blahniks long discarded. Her anxiety began to build. As much as he'd had to deal with over the last month, for Bruce, nothing else had ever – or could ever – hit so close to home. His mission had been wrapped up in and driven by one singular purpose, to prevent what had happened to him from happening to someone else. As he would see it, this crime mocked that purpose and screamed his failure unlike any other. Despite how well she knew him, she had no idea how deeply it would affect his emotional state. She feared he would be completely broken by it, although she believed that he would survive this as he had everything else. And maybe this time he'd let her help him.

Finally, the car blasted into the cave and came to an abrupt stop. The door did not immediately open as she had expected. Diana spent a few moments at the edge of the platform, listening to the sound of her heart pounding in her ears while she waited for him to climb out of the car. Eventually the door slowly opened and Batman climbed out. He stood beside the car, turned in her direction and froze, looking at her but making no move in her direction.

They gazed at each other for a moment before he sighed deeply and pushed back his cowl. Diana felt her throat tighten as she struggled to keep her emotions in check. His handsome face was ashen and haggard, his eyes bloodshot and red-rimmed. Although his expression was frozen in his typical cold, impassive mask, his eyes, locked with hers, revealed utter desolation and despondence.

As she felt the tears well up and threaten to overflow, he looked away, focusing somewhere behind her toward the back of the cave. Finally, with heavy footfalls, Bruce began to walk toward her. As he approached, Diana reached out for him, as his intent to pass right by her became evident.

He stopped just out of arms reach. "Don't," he croaked out in a hoarse whisper. She dropped her arms to her sides as he continued by, watching as he sat something on his desk and stared at it for a moment before walking back to the changing area. Diana knew that even with her, he was determined to maintain his composure; however, she was just as determined not to allow him to push her away in order to do so. Stubbornly, she followed close behind.

As she crossed the threshold to the changing room, she found him already seated on the narrow bench, immobile, his head hung and his eyes closed. His cape, cowl, and belt had been carelessly tossed aside and lie in a heap beside him.

Diana dropped to the floor, kneeling in front of him. Taking his heel in her right hand, she lifted his foot to rest on her upper thigh. She glanced up just as his eyes flew open. He gazed down at her in silence as she lowered the long zipper on the inside of his boot, pulled it off, and then repeated the action with the other. Sitting his boots to the side, Diana next reached for his hands, pulling off one black gauntlet, then the other. They were deposited neatly next to his boots.

She pushed gracefully off of the floor and stood. Moving gently yet quickly, she divested him of his body armor from the waist up, baring his muscled, battle-scarred chest.

Diana stepped forward between his legs, gently resting a hand on each shoulder. Bruce gazed up at her for a few more moments before he released another deep, bone-weary sigh and went limp, sagging against her. He turned his head and pressed his cheek against her abdomen, wrapping his arms tightly around her waist. As he held on to her, Diana found herself feeling very much like an anchor that was preventing Bruce from sinking in the depths of despair. He'd been through so much – far too much. Even for someone as strong as he was.

"The boy knows," he said softly. "He knows that I'm to blame for his parent's murders – or if he doesn't yet, he soon will."

Diana threaded her fingers through his hair and wrapped her forearms around his head, the sweat-dampened locks of black hair curling and sticking to her silver bracers, condensation forming from his body heat.

"He won't blame you," she replied and began to stroke his hair. "How could he, Bruce? If anything, you could give him some comfort – you continued your father's legacy, became successful, honoring both of your parents."

"No Diana. Not Bruce Wayne. He'll blame Batman – probably already does. And he should. He might not know why, but it's my fault. His parents are dead because of me."

"I don't understand."

"The killer gave him two pearls as a message. He told the boy to give to them to me – only to me."

Diana's hand stilled its soft stroking of his sweat saturated hair and her eyes went wide as her mind raced through the implications of what Bruce had just told her. It almost certainly meant that whoever killed the Muellers knew Batman's real identity. She swallowed down her panic, knowing that wasn't what Bruce needed from her right now.

"Let's go upstairs," she whispered. "You need to rest." He reluctantly pulled away and allowed her to take his hand and lead him upstairs.

Bruce followed her into the bedroom and crossed the room, stopping in front of the expansive row of windows while Diana locked the door behind her. He stood very still, staring out the across the bay, the lights of Gotham City visible in the distance. She walked around to stand in front him, wordlessly forcing his gaze to meet hers. Ice blue eyes stared back at her bleakly. Restraining the flood of emotion over the last few hours seemed to have exhausted him completely. She could see that he was just barely hanging on.

Slowly, she lifted her hands to his forearms and up over his shoulders. He closed his eyes and she linked her fingers at the nape of his neck when he suddenly pulled her tightly against him and buried his face in her hair and inhaled deeply.

They stood there, holding each other until she felt a hot wet sensation along the soft skin of her collarbone. She pulled back, grasping his head between her hands. His eyes were lowered, so she leaned forward, first kissing his eyelids and then the dampness on his cheeks. He lifted his eyes to hers. In spite of the horror he'd had to face over the last few hours - reflected in them was desire. But this time, the desire was darker – it was laced heavily with desperation and undiluted need. A shiver ran through her followed by a surge of warmth to her core. He was looking at her as if taking her right now was as necessary as taking his next breath.

Diana leaned forward to softly trail kisses across his cheeks again, until finally covering his slightly parted lips with hers. Immediately Bruce responded by taking control and hardening her soft, comforting kiss. He fisted her hair in one hand and holding her head, he pressed her lips against his. His kiss was fierce. His touch – his hands, his lips, and his tongue against hers – was frantic and primal. Diana felt so lightheaded from his passionate embrace that she barely registered a muscular forearm under her backside until she was suddenly being lifted from the floor and tossed roughly onto the bed.

She looked up at him – his expression was now almost angry as he covered her body with his. She felt it – his tense body was awash with emotion he had no idea how to handle. Diana could let him simply release his frustration on her and exhaust his body but she knew that wouldn't soothe him, if he could be soothed at all. As he circled her wrists with his fingers and moved to hold her hands above her head, she suddenly rolled out from under him and flipped him onto his back.

"Diana –"

She could hear the panic in his voice. He thought she was pulling away from him.

"Shhhh." She rose to her knees and crawled over to him. Slowly, she climbed on top of his torso and straddled his waist. He looked up, eyes locked with hers, his forehead wrinkled in confusion.

Diana smiled gently. "Shhhh," she admonished again. Reaching down, she grasped the hem of her black dress and lifted up and over her head. She tossed it aside, leaving her clad in only a pair of lacy black boy shorts.

As she leaned down and kissed his neck, Bruce's eyes closed and she felt him begin to relax beneath her as she trailed more gentle kisses across the scars of his chest. She eased back and shifted, moving enough to remove the Nomex-Kevlar weave and cotton boxer-briefs that concealed his growing arousal. Once the remnants of his clothing had been discarded, Diana continued to cover him with feather-light kisses, her lips brushing across his thigh and hipbone until he grasped her upper arm and pulled her mouth back to his.

Bruce now kissed her reverently, his fingers gently threading through her hair. Her actions had successfully shifted his mood, exactly as she had intended. Kneeling beside him, she sat back on her heels and gazed down at him. His blue eyes opened slowly and bore into hers.

"I need you," he whispered.

"I know," she replied. Diana quickly slipped the black lace from her hips. His eyes never left hers as she moved over him once again, lowering slowly until she'd taken all of him inside her.

Bruce gripped her hips tightly as he urged her to move. Together they began to build toward a slow, steady rhythm. Two pairs of blue eyes remained locked. Everything around them slipped away until those few precious moments ended with their joint cries of pleasure.

Diana collapsed on Bruce's chest, resting the soft skin of her cheek against the hard wall of muscle, damp with perspiration. Slowly she traced the length of his arm with her fingertips as he did the same up and down her spine with his free hand. As their rough breathing returned to normal, Bruce released a long, deep sigh.

"At least – maybe – if he blames me, he won't live with the same guilt I did."

Diana stilled her hand, unwilling to separate herself from him or move at all, fearful that if she did, he'd stop talking to her.

"When my parents were murdered, I could only blame their killer…and myself for not stopping him."

Diana let out a slow, silent breath. "Bruce…you were eight. As he is. What could you have done – what could he have done?"

"Nothing. Logically, I've known that since I was a teenager. But for years I blamed myself. I wasn't strong enough, smart enough, fast enough – or brave enough to do anything to stop it. As a kid I lived with that. It consumed my every waking minute. And most nights. In my nightmares."

For Diana, this was something of a revelation. Those who knew him believed that Batman had begun as a means to prevent another child from experiencing what he had – quite possibly it was also his way of honoring his parent's memory. But now, listening to him talk to her, his mission seemed to be an attempt at redemption or perhaps a form of self-punishment.

With both hands, Bruce reached to cradle Diana's head, turning her face toward his. His eyes looked into hers, reflecting a deeply intense but as of yet unnamed emotion. "Thank you," he said.

Diana reached up and traced his lower lip with one finger. "For what?" she asked, smiling softly.

"For being here. For everything. I'm sorry I kept you waiting so long."

Diana dropped a soft kiss on the sparse curls of his chest before resting her cheek against his heart. "Bruce, you know I would have waited all night."

With his hands, he urged her to look up at him again. "That's not what I meant," he replied. "I'm not sure what kind of place I would be in right now if I didn't have this…you…to come back to tonight. You give me exactly what I need."

"I've been trying to for years."

"I know. That's what I mean." He paused. "I'm sorry I missed our dinner. And that I had to send Dick after you."

"Stop. I would have preferred to have been with you, but I understand why I couldn't be. Dick was very convincing. And very chivalrous."

"Chivalrous?"

"Chasing away your rivals for my affection," she teased. "Very creepy ones."

Bruce winced as he lifted her gently to separate them and rolled on top of her. "Do I have rivals?" He brought his face very close to hers; his expression was dark and serious, as was his tone.

Diana blinked up at him slowly and realized that although her teasing was a feeble attempt to further lighten his mood, he saw through it to her discomfort and the odd sense of foreboding she felt earlier from the strange man at the bar. At that point she decided that she'd tried to lighten his mood as far as she dared. Obviously he was still deeply troubled, but there was nothing to be done about that for now. At least he was much calmer. She hoped that he could sleep somewhat peacefully for a little while.

"Bruce. In hundreds of years, I've desired exactly one man."

Bruce said nothing as he gazed at her, his expression still very somber. He leaned down and kissed her gently before he rested his head on her chest and wrapped his arms under and around her, holding her tightly against him. After a few moments, Diana could hear and feel the now familiar sensation of his even breathing and knew that he had fallen asleep.

She stared up at the ceiling, sleep eluding her as she struggled with the understanding that much, much worse was yet to come.

E/N: Well, this chapter ended up being one long lemon with some plot movement woven in. More action of a different kind up next. Review please!


	13. Storm

**Chapter 13**

A/N: Sorry for the delay folks. This one gave me some trouble - so much writing and rewriting.

Many thanks once again to DaisyJane for the beta.

Disclaimer: All recognizable characters, events, and music are the property of their respective owners. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended. No profit is being made.

Youtube - QU6AhH2a1cU

**Storm**

It had been a long time since he'd felt this unsure of himself.

Bruce Wayne stood in an expansive executive office, staring down through the glass wall into the arboretum located in the center of the Children's Hospital of Gotham. About a dozen children, accompanied by family or hospital staff, were scattered amongst the foliage. Several children were in wheelchairs.

He was at the hospital to have another conversation with Milo Mueller. Bruce knew that detectives had already interviewed him with the help of a forensic psychologist. They'd learned all they would about the murders themselves. He'd seen the transcripts that morning on the GCPD database and the eight-year-old had revealed almost nothing at all to the cops or the shrink.

It would have been simple for Batman to slip into the kid's room unseen and question him further. But the kid was terrified and vulnerable. He didn't want to risk traumatizing him further by forcing him to endure a visit from a masked vigilante. So instead, he was waiting for the CEO of the hospital, who was at that moment attempting to gain Bruce Wayne access to Milo Mueller.

Being Gotham's wealthiest citizen afforded him many special considerations. However, despite having funded the construction of both the wings that housed the Cancer Center and the Inpatient Psychiatric Center – which virtually guaranteed that the hospital administrators would move heaven and earth to keep him happy – they were doing things by the book this time. He could talk to the child, but only with the consent of his maternal grandparents. Although that was the stipulation, he anticipated that the request currently being made by the senior hospital official would be very convincing.

As Batman, he obviously came face to face with crime victims often – and many, too many, were children. They always affected him. They triggered that ever-present sense of frustration and failure for not preventing whatever crime in which made them victims. This time, admittedly, it was different. Very different.

Simply put, Bruce was nervous. He was about to face the most vulnerable and painful moment of his life and he wasn't entirely sure what he was going say to the boy that now represented it. He knew that Milo Mueller's future could never possibly become _exactly_ same, but he also felt the need to _know_ that the boy's future would turn out_ entirely_ different than his own. Despite the fact that they shared this one singular, seminal experience.

He turned as Dr. Gabriel Alvarado swept back into the room. Bruce noted the edge of anxiety now present as the man ran a hand through his prematurely silver-gray hair.

"Mr. Wayne? You may visit Milo Mueller, but…" A surge of apprehension flashed in the older man's eyes where there was typically self-confidence and cool sense of command. "The Suttons would like to speak with you first, sir…if you are comfortable with that, of course."

Bruce's eyes narrowed as he regarded the doctor shrewdly. In his playboy billionaire persona, he was not known for his depth of character. It was quite clear by his expression that Dr. Alvarado's tension reflected a lack of confidence in Bruce Wayne's ability to be sympathetic and tactful with a couple whose daughter had just been murdered, leaving them a grandson to care for.

Normally the assumption of others that he was a shallow dilettante didn't bother him. After all, he cultivated that reputation deliberately. Now, however, he found himself surprised and angry that anyone could believe that in this situation, he – of all people – couldn't conduct himself appropriately. Not bothering to hide his irritation, Bruce responded tersely, "Dr. Alvarado, I'm more than capable of offering my simple condolences. I can certainly empathize with their situation."

The CEO's face reddened. It was certainly not wise to offend the hospital's single biggest benefactor. "Of course, Mr. Wayne. I'll bring Mr. and Mrs. Sutton in here. Please take a seat," he said, nodding toward one side of the room as he quickly backed out of it.

Bruce moved to the seating area and sat down on an expensive Italian chair that faced an equally expensive Italian leather sofa. A few minutes later he found himself facing Grant and Margaret Sutton, a gray-haired, yet youthful-looking couple in their early sixties. Dr. Alvarado had wisely excused himself to attend to some "important hospital business".

Leaning forward with his elbows on his knees and fingers interlaced, Bruce sucked in a deep, silent breath before he spoke. "Mr. and Mrs. Sutton, I realize that this must be a difficult time for you. Thank you for considering my request."

Mr. Sutton sat with his back straight and his arms crossed. He leveled a steely glare at the younger man sitting across from him. After a moment of strained silence, he said sternly, "Mr. Wayne, we have some idea why our grandson interests you, but we have no idea why you find it necessary to speak with him."

Bruce pressed his lips together and nodded slightly. "I understand your concern and hesitation. All I can say is that I feel a responsibility to Milo and I want to help him – and you both – any way that I can."

As Mr. Sutton continued to stare him down, Mrs. Sutton gently rested one hand on her husband's forearm and looked at Bruce kindly. "Our daughter's poor choices aren't your responsibility, Mr. Wayne."

Surprised by this reply, Bruce sat back in his chair. His eyes darted back and forth between the Suttons as he scrutinized their expressions. Mr. Sutton's scowl had deepened as his wife spoke. Mrs. Sutton on the other hand looked grief stricken, yet resigned – almost as if what had happened to her daughter was something not entirely unexpected.

"Our daughter was rebellious and self-destructive," Mrs. Sutton continued. "She made many poor choices – particularly with men."

Abruptly, Mr. Sutton stood and walked out of the room. Mrs. Sutton winced as her husband slammed the door behind him.

"Forgive my husband, Mr. Wayne. He's angry with our daughter. Tanya had not spoken to her father in ten years. Grant was career military. He was very strict with the children and our daughter was very willful. It made for a volatile home when she was a teenager. At eighteen she left to follow some guitar player to Star City. It wasn't long after that she called me and told me that she'd met someone new – Hugo Mueller."

Margaret Sutton's expression glazed as she stared unseeing at the blue sky visible through the massive glass wall. She continued, although she spoke as if she had forgotten Bruce was there. Bruce remained silent and listened intently as she revealed something of her inner turmoil.

"I spoke to her by phone occasionally…and never met Milo until today. For years I pushed Grant to reach out to her. I wanted to know my grandson. Again and again, he refused. It wasn't until yesterday that I really understood what drove the animosity between the two. Years ago, my husband had learned through his military contacts that Hugo Mueller might be involved with the mob. Last night he finally told me. All these years, he was doing what he could to keep her and Milo safe and that meant we had to stay away."

Mrs. Sutton broke off and her eyes focused as if she'd again become aware that she was not alone. As she stood, Bruce did as well. "Forgive my ramblings, Mr. Wayne. Despite the similarities with your own experience, none of this is any of your concern. I'm more than aware that it was many of Tanya's own choices that contributed to her death. You may speak to Milo if you wish. I trust that you will mind what you say and not upset him further." With a nod, Mrs. Sutton turned and walked out of the room.

Bruce stood staring at the door in a shocked silence. There was more to the Mueller's that met the eye. Hugo Mueller was not an innocent, but he had his doubts that the man's criminal activity had anything to do with the murders. It was, however, another angle to investigate.

Earlier that morning, he had done a cursory background check on the Mueller's. All that he'd learned was that Hugo Mueller had been born in Gotham but had moved to Star City sometime during his childhood. During his younger years in Star City, he'd been small time crook. Around the time he'd met and married Tanya, there was a noticeable absence of any further arrests or suspected criminal activity. Any that was documented, at least. Based on what Margaret Sutton had said, it probably wasn't because he'd met the woman of his dreams and turned over a new leaf. Later he would reach out to Oliver Queen to see if he or his alter ego Green Arrow had ever encountered Hugo and Tanya Mueller.

"Mr. Wayne?" The attractive blonde assistant that had first escorted him into her employer's office appeared in the doorway. "I've been asked to accompany you to the children's psych unit."

* * *

Milo Mueller hadn't told the police anything about the message he had been given. There was nothing at all about Batman in the GCPD transcripts of Milo Mueller's interview. He'd done exactly what that bastard had told him to do and kept it a secret. As much as it pained Bruce that the kid feared the guy so much he would lie to the police – it did increase the chances of keeping his identity a secret. Still, he needed to find out whatever else he could before the child left Gotham City with his grandparents.

Bruce entered the large area that had obviously been designed to provide children with a multitude of activities in order to pass the time. There was a large salt-water fish tank on one wall. A wall unit contained a multitude of games, books, and toys for children of all ages. Milo Mueller was alone in the room, playing a video game on a wide screen TV with what looked to be a Wii U. He didn't look up as Bruce approached him and sat down on the chair next to him. He watched silently for a moment as Milo raced a Bugatti Veyron, which looked exactly like his own, across a bridge and into a city with police in full pursuit.

After a few minutes of outrunning the police, Milo released a long sigh and put down his game controller. It was the only acknowledgment he made of Bruce's presence. He kept his eyes focused on the floor.

"Hi, Milo. My name is Bruce. Can we talk for a minute?"

The child's eyes remained downcast as he shrugged with reluctant assent.

"Milo, I know you talked to the police already, but I was hoping you could talk to me about what happened too."

Bruce watched as the child stiffened with fear and his eyes blinked furiously with unshed tears.

Pushing past the anxiety that was tightening his throat, Bruce continued, "Can you tell me more about the man, Milo? I know he was wearing a mask, but can you remember anything else?"

Milo Mueller sat very still, shaking his head quickly and abruptly to indicate _no_.

Bruce sighed softly. He hadn't realized how much easier this was to do from behind the cowl. "Milo, I know you were told not to talk to anyone else about what happened but if you talk to me, I promise it will be ok."

The boy's head snapped up as he spoke. He stared at Bruce, his eyes wide with terror.

"He'll never know. It's just between you and me, ok?"

Milo continued to stare back at him for another moment, silent and afraid. His eyes then darted around the room, resting on the door – as if he was desperately looking for his escape.

He did not want Batman to have to pay a visit to the Sutton's home in Central City to ask any follow-up questions unless it was absolutely necessary. The child was going to need to be convinced. Somehow, Bruce had to gain his trust. Quickly. There was only one way he could think of to do that. He took another deep breath and steeled himself.

"Milo, what happened to you happened to me too."

Milo Mueller's head snapped around again as he looked at Bruce in utter surprise. Milo hadn't grown up in Gotham; he'd just arrived in town and had never heard of Bruce Wayne or the story of the murders of Thomas and Martha Wayne.

It had been decades since Bruce had initiated any conversation about what happened to his parents. He again struggled past the lump in his throat and spoke the words that would hopefully inspire enough trust for the child in front of him to talk about what happened. Slowly, Bruce told Milo about his parent's murders, leaving out the details that were so similar to the Mueller's murders that it would only cause the child further trauma to hear the words spoken aloud. Feeling very much like a fraud, he ended the story with words that he hoped would spare Milo a little of the devastation he had experienced himself.

"Milo, I want you to understand that none of it was your fault. When I was your age, I blamed myself. I thought I should have done something to help them. But I didn't."

Bruce gazed down at the child, who continued to look at him in shocked silence, eyes moist with tears that now threatened to spill over. The boy was trying to be strong, but Bruce could see the truth in those wide brown eyes as he articulated what he absolutely knew the child was thinking and feeling.

He forced out the words that were so difficult to say. "You couldn't help them, Milo. There was nothing you could do." Images of his parents' murder flashed briefly in his mind before Bruce shook them off. He could barely choke out the next few sentences, trying hard to maintain the conviction in his voice, "There is only…only one person to blame here – the person who fired that gun." He got the words out and hoped that Milo believed them. Like all the crime in Gotham, and with this crime above all others, Bruce still blamed himself and considered them personal failures.

"You couldn't help them then, Milo. But maybe you can help them now. Just between you and me, remember? Tell me what he looked like."

The tears that had been threatening for so long finally overflowed as Milo tried to answer the question. "It was really dark." The child's brow furrowed. "Really, really dark. I grabbed mom's hand. Dad told us to hurry. He wanted us to get out of there fast." The boy wrapped his arms around himself and gently began to rock back and forth. His eyes were now squeezed tightly shut, although it didn't stop the flow of tears.

Hands fisted at his sides, Bruce paused a moment before prompting Milo further. The urge to offer comfort was strong. The problem was that he didn't know how. Nothing had brought him comfort back then. Being Batman had never made him feel better. It only gave him an outlet for his rage.

"Then what happened?" Bruce asked, pushing forward. It shouldn't have been that dark – not in Gotham with the street lights and light pollution of the city.

"He was just there in front of us. Before we could get to the street. It happened so fast. He was standing there and then…and then…they were…just…" Milo stopped, tears streaming down his cheeks. He drew in a deep, shaky breath.

Bruce was overwhelmed with empathy for the child who was trying so hard to be strong. "Take your time, Milo," he said softly.

"He shot them and they fell. Then he put his face very close to mine when he gave me…the message for…"

Bruce nodded and then moved Milo past the message for Batman. "Do you remember what he looked like?"

Milo shook his head. "He had on a black mask. A ski mask. But his eyes were very close to mine. Even though it was dark, they looked really green. I remember that."

Bruce nodded again, "How tall was he? Was he as tall as your dad?"

Milo shook his head again. "No. He was taller than my mom, but not as tall as my dad. And his voice was weird."

"Weird how?"

"It sounded like a robot. Not like a real person."

"He was using a voice changer. Are you sure it was a man, Milo? Could it have been a woman?"

"I don't know," he whispered. The boy paused and took a deep breath. "He… I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry, Milo. You didn't do anything wrong."

"I didn't help them."

"I told you Milo, you are helping them now. Everything you are telling me helps them. Between you and me, remember?"

"I wish he was dead."

For a few moments, it was Bruce's turn to sit in silence. When he had first entered the room, he hadn't planned what he was going to say to the boy. He hadn't let himself contemplate that the conversation would take this particular turn.

"Do you think you'll feel better if he's dead?"

Milo looked at him steadily. The earlier anguish had faded a little, giving way to his anger.

"Yes."

Unbidden, he was assaulted with mental images of a terrified Joe Chill falling to his death.* Eventually, Milo would needed answers. Answers about the difference between justice and vengeance. Real answers. Answers that did not include Batman. For now, he would keep it simple. Right now, Milo was just too young. As he had been.

Bruce focused on the floor as he began to speak. "That won't make you feel better, Milo. When the man who killed my parents died, I didn't feel better. It's been really hard for me to stop feeling sad and angry…but that's partly my own fault. I didn't let anyone help me when I was your age. I didn't talk to anyone about how I was feeling back then. Or for a very long time after that."

Bruce raised his head and met Milo Mueller's angry, confused expression. "I've only just realized what a big mistake that was. You will always miss your parents, but you can be happy again. You will be. If you let your family and your friends help you, it will start to get easier. Believe that, Milo."

The boy nodded at him slowly although his sullen expression clearly reflected skepticism. Bruce had no more time to try to convince Milo of a truth that he had never allowed himself to accept. Suddenly, Milo inhaled sharply and his eyes widened as he focused his gaze toward the door.

Turning, it was Bruce's turn to inhale sharply as his eyes fell on the most beautiful creature to grace this planet or any other. A dark-haired angel complete with a golden halo.

She'd clearly heard the end of his discussion with Milo Mueller. Standing in the doorway, Diana's blue eyes brimmed with tears as she smiled softly and gazed at him with absolute adoration. For what seemed like the millionth time, he felt as if he'd been struck in the chest with a sledgehammer when the surge of emotion overwhelmed him. He'd done nothing to deserve her, but she had given herself to him nevertheless. She began to walk toward them, followed by one of the nurses.

"That's Wonder Woman." Milo whispered.

"I know," Bruce replied softly.

"You know her?"

Bruce turned back to the young boy. Milo stared, transfixed, at the super-heroine as she approached them. His face registered the same expression that Bruce knew his own always did for those few seconds after he first lays eyes on her.

Wonder and awe…every time. Since the very first.

He offered the boy a small smile. "Yes, I know her. Milo, remember what I told you."

"Ok."

* * *

Diana greeted Milo Mueller warmly, then stepped aside as Bruce said goodbye to his new young acquaintance. From the moment she'd first entered the room, she observed every detail in his expression, his verbalizations, and his behavior. The mask of Bruce Wayne was firmly in place, but missing that aloof, carefree demeanor that typically graced the playboy billionaire's handsome features. Instead, he'd twisted the mask into a guarded, yet sympathetic expression.

She knew him so well though, that the emotional turmoil within him was obvious to her in other ways. In his eyes, she saw that the event that had branded his soul as a child and had faded to an ever-present dull ache now burned, blistered, and scorched his heart once again. She heard the brief falter in his voice as he struggled to quell the raging emotion. Her own emotions threatened to spill over as her heart ached for his.

This was so hard for him.

As soon as they were alone and Bruce turned to her, the mask fell away. Their eyes met and the air became thick with the emotion that now flowed freely from a man not known for depth of emotion in either of his personas. His anguish was palpable and painful to bear witness to, but it was the way that he gazed at her with longing, relief, and gratitude that affected her most deeply. It was abundantly clear that he was doing exactly what she'd asked of him. He was trying to let her in.

"Hello, Princess."

Diana smiled softly and remained silent as she cautiously waited for him to give some indication how he wanted her to behave. Despite the fact that they were alone in the room, this was Gotham and they were in a public place. She wanted nothing more than to go to him, but she had no idea if that would be welcomed. Last night they'd been alone and he had resisted her comfort. Of course, she had ignored what he'd wanted and soothed him anyway. Or tried to.

When he took three long strides toward her, wrapped his arms around her and buried his face in her hair, she knew she needn't have worried.

"Ah, Diana, you have the best timing," he breathed as he inhaled deeply.

Diana laid her head on his shoulder, savoring their private moment. "How are you?"

Bruce squeezed her tighter. "Getting there. This is a welcome surprise."

He'd left their bed early that morning, long before she'd awakened. It had been Alfred that told her he'd gone into Gotham City to attend to business at Wayne Enterprises. The murders the night before weighed heavily on his psyche, she knew. She had no idea he would be here though, nor did he expect to see her.

"I'm here with my mother's attorneys to meet with Alyssa's psychiatrist. We're discussing a timetable to Alyssa's release. They've decided to push up her release date."

"She's doing better then?"

With a sigh, Diana reluctantly stepped back. He released her, but before she could pull away completely, Bruce grabbed her hand and interlaced their fingers. Her somber expression matched his.

"No. She's…struggling. There is so much hatred and fear of men. I think that it's difficult for the hospital to provide the proper care. We hope she'll do better once she gets to the island."

"Is it a good idea to isolate her from men completely, Diana? She'll have to leave the island at some point."

Diana shrugged. "It's hard to know for sure what's best. Right now, what she needs is to feel safe again. That needs to happen before we can work on processing her trauma. Keeping her here would mean continuing with heavy sedation and emotionally her progress would be very slow. I think taking her to Themyscira would be best for her. She would be near women who completely understand what she is going through and will know how to make her feel safe." She glanced over her shoulder at the large clock on the wall. "I'm sorry Bruce, I hate to leave you but they'll be waiting for me."

His gaze left hers as he brought the back of her hand to his lips, and then leaned forward to brush them against her temple. "Take care of your responsibilities. I'll see you later." Bruce then turned from her and she watched as he walked out the door without looking back.

* * *

Milo Mueller hadn't told him much, but what details he did give left more questions than answers. There were things that didn't fit. They just felt…wrong.

Why the rush to escape from the alley? Obviously Hugo Mueller had been running from something. Or someone. He knew he was in trouble. He had wanted to get his family out of that alley fast. It could have been the killer, although if he'd appeared in front of the family, they could have been fleeing someone – or something – else.

From what he'd been told, the darkness must have been intense. Too intense. This wasn't exactly the worst part of town. There were several restaurants with back entrances into that alley. When he'd scanned the crime scene, the alley had been lit. Not well lit, but lit.

So now, despite the fact that it was last place he wanted to be, he was racing through Gotham City in the Batmobile back to the alley. He didn't trust his state of mind that night enough to believe it wasn't possible that he'd missed something. He was going to have to go back.

He deposited the Batmobile several streets over and made his way across the rooftops toward the alley. Directly above the crime scene, Batman paused to survey the area around him. Arkham City was visible directly across the river. Ironically, he could see the buildings within the Park Row area jutting up from behind the mass of concrete that walled in the former prison. Within Park Row lay Crime Alley, where his own parents had been gunned down in cold blood.

A sound from below drew his attention away from the Arkham City skyline. Stepping to the edge, he looked down into the alley to discover what appeared to be an entirely new crime scene within the confines of the old.

A man was hunched over someone who was lying in the center of the alley. A quick scan of his cowl confirmed the individual was deceased.

Batman dropped silently into narrow corridor between the buildings, directly behind a man who was frantically searching the pockets of the prone figure.

Seconds later, he sent the would-be thief through the air, slamming him into the brick wall before bouncing him off a steel garbage dumpster. A split second after that, Batman had the thug pinned against the wall with a fist gripped tightly around his throat. His long reach prevented the man from making contact with anything but air as he kicked frantically, his feet desperately trying to touch the ground.

"What did you do?" Batman growled.

"I didn't do nuthin' – he was just lyin' there!"

Batman lifted the man away from the wall and then slammed him back against it. Hard.

"Try again."

The man struggled, gasping for breath as he clawed at Batman's arm.

"Wait – no," he rasped against the pressure on his windpipe. "I didn't kill him! I was just wanted to get high…get some junk!"

And When the vise around his neck loosened slightly, the perp continued, "I found him there – he was already dead – so I just was just gonna take what he had! He didn't have nuthin' but these – "

Still pinned above the ground, he reached into the pocket of his filthy hooded sweatshirt. He pulled out his bounty and held the objects out between his dirty, calloused index, middle finger, and thumb.

Even in the dim alley, the light from the commercial grade LED above reflected off the tiny white spheres. Both of them. Two pearls. But just one corpse.

Batman's grip tightened around the man's neck. "Where's the other body?!" he roared.

The man's eyes widened. "Wha-what other body? There's nobody –"

Suddenly, the man's head jerked unnaturally to the left. As his head then slumped forward, the eyes that looked back at him were empty and vacant, yet somehow forever to be frozen with fear. A split second before the drop of blood slid down the man's temple, Batman realized that there was a second body.

* * *

* Joe Chill fell from a balcony to his death in TNBA Episode #17 'Fear Itself'

E/N: Hopefully the extra frustration with this chapter worked out in the end. It would be great if you could let me know.


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